


regardless

by bbb136



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (apparently?), (but i try with my trash), (this is trashy), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dreams and Nightmares, Force Bond (Star Wars), Friendship, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Multi, OCs - Freeform, Post-Movie, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Read end notes for more details, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Trope Subversion, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Warnings May Change, but apparently this isn't trashy, i thought i was trashy, if a certain hot mess of a villain is involved that's just part of the deal, references to mental trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbb136/pseuds/bbb136
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.” </p><p>― Oscar Wilde</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'M TRASH I KNOW.
> 
> [Warnings in the end notes.]

There is something unmistakably Alpha about Rey, buried under a lifetime spent being ignored and disregarded. It’s perhaps less obvious to the eye because she doesn't quite have the looming height of most alphas (don’t think of him) but Poe has always been observant and he can see that there is a _power_ there that promises a fight should you make the fatal mistake of provoking one.

She watches the whole of Finn’s surgery from the observation window, head held high and lightsaber held loosely in one hand, rebuffing all attempts by the medics to treat her wounds.

Rey is very pretty, and Poe can completely understand why Finn would have a crush but instinctively he knows that it’s more than that.

Because anyone who looks at Rey knows that she is a survivor.

She might not have made it out without injury but the success of her recent duel hangs around her like a rich cloak. He doesn’t imagine that she appreciates all the staring one bit but even he can’t pretend to be casual about it, not when this fierce-eyed girl has managed to defeat the monster that the Resistance has spent the last decade or so hiding from.

Then there’s Finn. A factory-made storm trooper without a name and a history. No family, no roots, no connections, everything that made FN 21-87 was carefully selected and administered by an order that prized obedience above all else.

The Resistance does not try to persuade prisoners of war to the Light Side. First Order Soldiers do not bend, they only break.

But FN 21-87 bent, and broke, right into a man with wild eyes who grabbed Poe by the shoulders and said, _I need a pilot_ , who whooped with joy when he got a direct hit on the people who made him - as if it were the first time he’d ever got something right in his entire life - and who reeled off his identification number with so little embarrassment that Poe was compelled to give him something human to go with all that soul.

Storm troopers are betas, never meant to be anything more than battle fodder. Alpha strength is reserved for the leaders. Omega gentleness is forbidden. Only a beta’s sedateness, free from the extremes of the biological spectrum.

Finn doesn’t act like a beta though, always throwing off conflicting signals and looking offended when a confused passerbyer eventually asks him what his intentions are. Poe’s not really sure what Finn is but he was raised right, so that conversation is on hold until Finn decides to talk about it. (If that ever does happen. From the moment they first met Finn has clearly had more important things on his mind than figuring out something as basic as dynamics.)

Rey and Finn. They’re a weird pair. It’s hard to look at them and not feel lonely.

......................................................................................

Poe spends the day waist-deep in an ship engine, so when he lies down to sleep it is with the bone-aching weariness of hours spent in hard labour. He’s stumbling over his shoes as he undresses and he only just remembers to remove his earpiece before sleep hits him like a wave. And it’s not enough.

_ (Take him with us.) _

Blue light frozen in mid-air.

Panic when his limbs refuse to move.

Pain when the punches connect.

Black robes that don’t make a sound when their owner walks.

Kylo Ren is always accompanied by the memory of that heavy, acrid scent. It fills his nose. He can’t _breathe_.

The memory melts away. Poe wakes up to sheets sticky with his subconscious body’s attempts to appease the threat and is so grateful that his position on the fleet grants him the privilege of a single room. (Once is just embarrassing. Multiple times means questions from the specialists.)

He drags a shaking hand across his face and stares at his flushed reflection in the mirror. Takes a deep breath, then turns the shower on. The water is cold.

......................................................................................

 

Poe is fine. He’s not lying. People think he got so far by being cocky but they’re wrong. He’s no green fighter who shrugs off bad hits until their face abruptly goes white and suddenly they’re falling to their knees. Poe knows his limits and these bad dreams… nightmares… whatever they are, he can handle them for now. (Although he will admit that the laundry situation is getting and harder and harder to hide.)

The shadows under his eyes grow more prominent with every passing day. Poe’s used to functioning with minimal sleep for weeks at a time yet he finds his concentration wavering at very inopportune moments. He’s just drained all the time. His squad has noticed his odd behaviour but aside from a few surreptitious glances they seem trust him enough to let him deal with it on his own.

So Poe gets up, strips his bed, showers, goes to the mess hall, does whatever work he has to do and spends the rest of the day in the med-bay with Finn and Rey, and when he’s finally kicked out, he’ll take the long trek back to his quarters and try again.

It’s nothing he can’t handle. 

......................................................................................

 

“Are you running a lot of missions right now?” Rey asks one evening, her gaze (as always) on the rise and fall of Finn’s chest.

Poe looks up from his data pad and makes a face. “No. Our fleet was too badly damaged in the assault. We got people running reconnaissance but nothing that requires my skills.” He smiles crookedly. “You didn't get to see it firsthand obviously but I'm the flashy sort of guy.”

Rey’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “But the General gave you a secret mission.”

“Yeah, and I ended up getting captured.” He reminds her and he’s rewarded with a little smile.

It doesn’t stay for long. Rey pauses. She looks him up and down and has just opened her mouth to say something else when a doctor comes in.

Poe leans back in his chair when he recognises the scent, makes sure to look pointedly in another direction until Aris moves into his eyeline and Poe has to smile at him.

“Hey Poe. I haven’t seen you for a while.” Aris says, his tone saying _don't mind me_  and his eyes saying something else entirely. “Been busy?”

Poe shrugs. “I’ve just been tired. War can be stressful.”

Aris pauses for a split second while his medical side and his alpha nature fight it out.

“... Routine fatigue?” Aris eventually asks, and Poe is surprised because he'd been betting on the alpha instincts coming out on top with this one. Strange. 

“Nothing worrying.” Poe replies. “Nothing a bit of down time won’t fix.”

Aris doesn’t look particularly convinced and Poe can practically see the barrage of medical tests laid out in front of him, so he just… uncrosses his legs. Settles all the way into his chair and arranges himself into a casual sprawl.

Aris’s scent gets a little sharper.

“C’mon, Aris,” Poe says lowly. “Don’t nag me in front of our guests. It’s just a busy time for us right now. A lot of late nights.”

“I noticed.” Aris licks his lips. He’s ever so slightly turned his back on Rey.

Because he’s tired, and he’s hungry, Poe doesn’t bother with gradually ramping up the pressure until it finally breaks. He rubs a hand across his (bare) neck with a sigh, feeling a sense of triumph when Aris’s gaze is immediately locked there.

 _Gotcha_.

“I know you’re working right now and you probably have other patients to see, but maybe I’ll see you in the mess hall later and we can catch-up?”

“... Yeah. Of course.”

Poe grins at him. “Brilliant. See you later, Aris.”

Aris blinks. “I- yes.”

He nearly knocks over a monitor when he leaves.

“How did you do that?” Rey asks.

Poe raises an eyebrow and jerks a thumb towards the closed door. “Make him go?”

Rey nods.

“Oh, that’s just old-fashioned omega magic.” Poe says with a weary laugh. “I’ve gotten very good at it.”

“Like… mind control?” Rey says in a very small voice that did not suit her at all.

Poe is momentarily lost for words. “... You don’t have a lot of experience with omegas, do you, Rey?”

Rey’s cheeks colour. “There weren’t a lot on Jakku.” She defends. “There were hardly any humans either. I only saw them in the passing. They seemed like everyone else, they worked like everyone else, I know about… heats, and things like that but… you’re not, in the middle of a heat right now…?”

That’s a very personal question to ask an omega but Poe will let it slide for now. “No.” He says. 

“So how did you do that? You just played that man right now. You made him want you.”

“Oh, he wanted me before.” Poe says, smirking. “I just reminded him of how much.”

“And that gave you an advantage.” Rey states.

Poe leans forward in his chair to give the young alpha a serious look. “Never think that someone's dynamic makes them weaker than you. They can always screw you over if you give them the opportunity.”

Rey takes a few seconds to take all the new information in. “That omega stuff must come in handy.” She says after a while, and Poe can’t help but preen a little because not many alphas look upon an omega’s skills with such fairness.

“Can’t be that helpful when you’re in the cockpit though.” Rey continues, shooting him a playful smile.

Poe chuckles and gets up to leave. “You never know. A little bit of omega sweetness at the right time could very well save my life one day.”

_(You should be afraid of me.)_

“Poe?”

He blinks.

He’s in the med bay. Finn is still asleep.

Rey is on her feet now.

“Poe,” She says again. She’s got both hands raised like she’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Are you alright?”

Poe looks around. He combs his hair away from his face and realises that his hands are shaking. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.”

"What was that then? You just stopped. And then you couldn’t see me.” Her gaze drifts towards the door and without meaning to Poe takes a few steps towards it.

“I’m fine. Just the lack of sleep and me being an idiot. Don’t worry. Stay with Finn, I’m going to bed.” He tells the floor, snatching his new jacket from the hook and jerking it on.

“But-”

“Leave it alone, Rey!”

And thankfully, she does.

......................................................................................

 

One of his squad members hunts him down the next morning.

“The Jedi knight just shipped out..” Maranee says. “Went with the Wookie. They’re going to find Skywalker.”

Poe gives up on fixing the compressor.

“It was kind of a big send-off. The Jedi and the General actually hugged.” Maranee adds.

The ‘where were you’ goes unsaid and unanswered.

“Did they say when they’ll be back?” Poe asks, thinking about Finn.

“No, but the Jedi asked me to tell you to look after her boy for her. She doesn’t want him to wake up alone.”

Poe nods, and after Maranee has left he looks down at the problem he’d made for himself and figures, that since all he needs are his hands and a few little tools, that he can do it anywhere.

......................................................................................

 

After Rey leaves, the dreams get worse.

One night he jerks awake, his heart thudding in his chest, but there’s no one else there. He’s alone.

Poe wonders if he’s going mad.

......................................................................................

 

Because the universe has a wonderful sense of irony, Finn wakes up only a few days after Rey leaves.

Finn comes to with a shudder so violent that it sends the monitor alarms blaring and has Poe instinctively reaching for his blaster.

“What - what - Rey?” Finn gasps, deeply disoriented and in a great deal of pain.

Poe rushes to his side. “Hey buddy, I’m going to need you to calm down now. You’re safe, Rey’s safe, we’re good.”

Finn struggles to comprehend him. “Rey’s safe? We won?”

“Yes. She beat him. It’s okay.” Poe says firmly, at which point Finn falls unconscious again.

It’s a pattern which repeats itself for the next few hours. Finn’s strength increases with each lucid period until he’s finally able to sit up and talk, providing he does everything slowly.

“I was out for a while, huh.” Finn remarks, surveying his surroundings with a bemused air not unlike the one present during their escape from the First Order, only a lot more muted and tired.

“Well, you’re back with us now. For good, I hope. The Resistance could use a guy like you.”

Finn snorts and starts picking at his blanket. “That’s stupid. I’m not good at anything. I can’t fly, I can’t fight, I’m useless.”

“Maybe I’d buy that if you hadn’t rebelled against the First Order and broken me out of prison.” Poe says in deadpan. “You realise you’re the first? We’ve never seen a storm trooper turn on the First Order before. No one ever stops shooting.”

Finn looks frustrated. “That’s not - I had to do that. I couldn’t fight with them anymore.”

Poe hugs Finn because he’s incapable of doing anything else. After a few seconds, Finn raises his arms and tentatively hugs him back.

“That right there?” Poe says when he pulls back. “That’s exactly why the Resistance needs you.”

“She didn’t though.” Finn says quietly.

Poe sighs. “Be careful of what you wish for, Finn.”

......................................................................................

 

General Organa gives the order for Poe’s squad to start patrolling again.

It’s the best medicine Poe could have asked for. In the cockpit he doesn’t feel the fatigue or the unease. For the first time in weeks he feels completely centered. Just him and the sky. Just him and the stars.

“Always nice to stretch your legs.” Poe says and twelve voices in his ear agree with him.

When he’s ordered to return to base a part of Poe wants to pretend his communicator broke, but his sense of duty has always proved more powerful than his passion and with a sigh he signals for his squad to fly home.

“Anything to report?” General Organa asks him, hands clasped behind her back.

“No unusual activity.” Poe replies.

“Hm.” General Organa studies him. “If you’re quite sure.”

......................................................................................

 

When Finn is released from med-bay (under strict orders not to take it too far) Poe takes him all over the base, shows him every corner and every ship and tries to answer every question he has. He introduces Finn to the rest of his squad who are all delighted to finally meet the guy who rescued their ‘poor, lonesome captain’.

(So maybe his squad are also assholes. That is the way of people.)

Poe hadn’t intended to spring everyone on Finn at once - given that Finn doesn’t act like he’s used to having attention paid to him nor that attention ever being a good thing - but to his surprise Finn holds his ground. He looks a little startled at first but after a while he joins in on the jokes, a wide smile breaking out when the topic of Captain Phasma comes up.

“I like him.” Maranee tells Poe. “You should bring him around more often.”

“It’s not like that.” Poe says, amused.

Maranee raises both hands, shrugging. “We’d all be fine with it, that’s all I’m saying. If you want to be with a beta, that’s your choice.”

Poe considers that for a moment, then lightly punches her in the arm. “Thanks.” He says, before he leaves with Finn.

......................................................................................

 

Poe's not sure how long he's been sleeping for when he gradually becomes aware that someone is stroking his face.

The fingers are tentative but curious, like the owner just can’t help themselves. They trace the line of his jaw like they’re searching for something they can only find in the lines of his skin.

Poe lets out a sigh when they move into his hair.

He’s always liked having his hair touched, finding someone he trusts enough to do it is difficult but these hands are… oddly familiar... so he’s content to lie back and doze a little longer. He’s so sleepy and warm.

Poe cries out when the hand suddenly seizes a chunk of hair and _pulls_.

He wants to recoil and hit back but every cell in his body screams at him to _stay still, he’s angry, don’t make it worse_ , so he doesn’t, because his instincts have saved him more times than he count and if they say that he shouldn’t fight then he’ll listen, it hurts and he’s scared but he’ll listen.

“You…” Kylo Ren hisses, and when Poe opens his eyes he sees that every inch of the alpha’s face is marked with fury. “What have you done?”

Poe can't speak. He grasps at Kylo Ren’s wrists desperately and Kylo Ren pulls him from his bed and slams him against the wall.

“Stop that! Stop - all of that, don’t do it!” Kylo Ren yells at him. There’s something wild in his eyes and Poe knows he should look away now but he _can’t_ , he just can’t.

“You…” Kylo Ren says again, and suddenly he moves back and holds out a hand and Poe can’t _breathe_.

Poe falls to his knees, clutching at his throat. His vision goes blurry and the white walls of his room start to darken into black.

Until the pressure abruptly vanishes.

He collapses onto the floor into a fit of pained gasps.

Tears are streaming down his face but the soldier in him forces him to get his feet, even if he has to hold himself up with the bed because his legs won't stop shaking.

Kylo Ren is at the opposite end of the room now and has gone very still.

 _Careful_.

“I don’t…” Kylo Ren starts, his expression deeply conflicted. The alpha is still tense but the anger is not all there. He’s actually standing back, like he’s wary that Poe will pull out a blaster and shoot at him.

Poe blinks back the tears. “What?” He says. “What is it? What do you want from me?”

Kylo Ren’s expression darkens. “I want you to stop.”

Poe's back hits the wall again and this time he can’t touch the ground. 

Kylo Ren advances on him and with every step the invisible grip around his throat gets tighter. “I want you to stop what you're doing, it won't work, I'm stronger than you, you're nothing, you can't fight me, you can't beat me!"

_He’s weak, you can get him._

Poe reaches out with a shaky hand.

“Please…” He whispers, staring pleadingly into the alpha’s eyes.

Kylo Ren looks like he’s been punched in the chest.

“Please…” Poe says again, and he can feel his strength fading fast, and he always thought that if he'd die he'd be in his ship but oh well, he fought hard...

There’s suddenly noise and light and a loud voice screaming, _“GET OUT!”,_ and Rey throws Kylo Ren through the door where he vanishes into smoke and the walls start to crumble and the world falls apart, and Poe -

Poe wakes up.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting the first bit of this was pretty easy because I was just like 'yeah i like this idea, screw it i'm having fun here, let's post it,' and then I got this overwhelming response? And now I'm a little bit freaked out because there is an audience who digs the same stuff that I do, and that hasn't really happened before. 
> 
> Thank you, so much.

The first thing he can ground in reality is the taste of vomit.

It’s in his mouth and when he looks down it’s all over his clothes and when he reaches shaking fingers out to touch it it’s… cold? So how long has he been sitting there?

Poe moves on autopilot, his body falling into the same old nighttime routine. He gets up, he strips his bed, throwing the sheets straight into the garbage shoot because he doesn’t want to smell them any longer, and then he staggers into the shower where the same hands that weave destruction into the skies also fumble for the cold water button.

It’s as if he, falls apart, again, once his hair is soaking wet, because the next thing he sees is BB-8 beeping anxiously at him through the glass, it’s little form pressed as close as it can physically get.

/Does Master-Poe require Assistance?/

Poe breathes in. He raises a hand and tries to talk but the words are stuck in his throat like tar.

/BB-8 can fetch Assistance. Does Master-Poe require a Doctor? Or a Friend?/

“Wait…” Poe protests. He pushes away from the shower wall and rubs his face, trying to work some energy into his slow-moving body. “Just…” He closes his eyes. “Just give me a second.”

BB-8 obeys, and for a minute the only noise in the room is the sound of Poe carefully breathing in, and out, and slow, and deep, while the water continues to fall down and down until it hits the floor in a steady patter.

Poe’s fought for long enough that he’s gotten a good grasp on maintaining his emotional state during times of stress. As a child this, like flying, was something he naturally excelled at. But on this night he’s glad that he took the time to learn the breathing techniques taught to rookie soldiers because they are the only thing that work.

In.

Out.

In.

Once his heart-rate has slowed down to something less manic, Poe sinks to the shower floor and lets his head fall back against the wall with a quiet ‘thunk’, stretching his legs out so they poke outside the narrow confines of the shower. BB-8 rushes over to inspect them.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Poe says quietly. “I’m alright now.”

/Master-Poe has had difficulty sleeping following our separation on Jakku./ BB-8 peers in at him and Poe knows it’s evaluating the possibility of trying to get into the shower with him. /But this is not a usual reaction. Master-Poe has never woken up in high levels of distress before. Master-Poe requires Assistance. Friend or Doctor?/

“It’s alright, BB-8.” Poe reaches out and pats the droid which curls up into his hand, all purring metal and worried whirring. “You don’t need to fetch anyone. Besides,” He pulls himself up, teetering precariously for a few seconds before finding his feet. “I think someone will be along very shortly.” He manages a wry smile. It rests like an ill-fitting helmet. “I’d rather not be naked when they come to say hello, don’t you agree?”

/BB-8 does not follow./

“Don’t worry about it. But there is one thing I’d like you to do for me.”

............

Poe is pulling on his uniform (he won’t sleep again tonight) when there’s a knock at the door.

The events of the night aside Poe would know exactly who it is based on that knock alone, given that all the doors in the Resistance Base open via a keypad and the only people who could be counted on to consistently knock would be those who had spent the majority of their life living out of boxes on a backwater planet.

“That must have been a really short quest if you’re back so soon.” He remarks when the door slides open and he sees Rey for the first time in weeks.

There’s another line on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t get a chance to say it. Rey charges past him as soon as there’s space. He turns, confused until she starts examining his bunk and his bathroom, one hand on her lightsaber the whole time.

Rey searches his quarters in their entirety, her frown darkening when she is unable find any other occupants.

“I don’t understand. He was here, I could feel him.” Rey hisses, her gaze flickering from one side to the other. “He was right here with me and he was _hurting_ you and I had to-”

Poe takes a step back when the alpha starts flashing her teeth.

“Hey now, it’s alright.” He says, lightly even though his pulse has skyrocketed. 

Rey glances at him, her hands clenched into tight fists. “You don’t understand, I felt him-”

“It was just a nightmare.” Poe cuts her off. “A bad dream, nothing more.”

“You don’t believe that.” Rey states and her eyes cut right to his core. “You’ve been ill for weeks now and I could-”

She trails off, her face the picture of complete and utter frustration.

A very dumb and irrational part of Poe is terrified that she is going to bring up his scent.

“Look, I don’t know how to explain it.” Rey finally says. “I hardly understand the Force, I can barely use it. But… when I look at you, sometimes I can sense… something that feels strange to me. Something that isn’t you.”

“What does that even mean?” Poe asks helplessly.

“I don’t know!” Rey cries. “It’s just - he was in your head, Poe! _Kylo_   _Ren_ was in your head and I know because he tried to get into mine, and he was hurting you-”

Rey slams a fist against the bathroom door and lets out a yell of pure exasperation.

It’s reflexes honed from the heat of battle that has Poe raising both hands and taking a cautious step towards the stressed alpha. “Rey, you need to calm down, I’m alright.” He murmurs in a soothing fashion. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Rey stubbornly whirls away and kicks at the wall.

“Rey.” Poe says sharply.

This, oddly enough, gets her attention.

She slowly turns back to him, breathing hard and frowning. “... I’m sorry.” She says, and while Poe is willing to bet his ship that she doesn’t fully understand what it is that she’s apologising for, the sincerity in her voice is real.

“I forgive you. But, none of that in my room, okay? None of that anywhere.”

Rey nods.

“... Can we go somewhere else?” She asks after a moment.

Poe sighs. “I think that would be a good idea.”

............

‘Somewhere else’ turns out to be the hanger bay. 

The base is never quiet, there are periods of low-level activity but there is never a time when the halls are empty and devoid of noise so there is small audience to their wandering. 

Two ships land as they enter, presumably returning from a long night patrol. 

Poe waves a hand at the pilots who disembark, they're not under his direct command but he knows them none the less. They return the greeting in a friendly enough manner but neither stop to talk, no doubt intent on finding their beds, which suits Poe fine as he can think of nothing to say which might have any semblance of normalcy to it, not when the sun is beginning to rise and a remnant of his nightly ordeals is still glued to his side. 

By silent agreement, he and Rey both stop to watch the light fall across the land. They don’t speak for a while.

“I don’t know what to do.” Rey says, her mouth trembling. “I don’t know what that was. I don’t know how I did what I did. I’m -” She bows her head to him. “I’m sorry that I entered your mind without your permission. I won’t do it again.” 

The fear that is steadily bubbling in Poe’s gut is momentarily overcome with fondness for this young, brave girl that he calls friend. 

“Thank you, Rey. For everything. I don’t know what you did but I think you saved my life in there.”

Rey does not look to be soothed by his reply. “You don’t - I don’t know how I did that. I was approaching the base and I just cast my senses out to see if I could feel - and then he was hurting you. And the worst thing is that there was no way you could fight back.”

Poe considers that.

“Maybe.” He says quietly, looking out at the horizon. “Maybe not.”

“What?” 

Poe waves her off. “Go see Finn.” He says suddenly. “He misses you, and he’ll be mad at me for not telling him the minute you got back.”

“But-”

“There’s nothing more you can do now.” Poe claps Rey on the shoulder, touched when she allows the gesture. “Thank you, but you might as well put an end to both your suffering and go see him.”

Rey casts a longing look over her shoulder. “Yeah.” She concedes. “But I will speak to my Master about this when he returns, he’ll know what’s going on.” It sounds like a promise.

And then she’s gone. Off running, the echo of her footsteps barely audible over the sound of engines firing. 

Poe watches her retreating figure until he can no longer see it. Then he walks over to where his X-wing is prepped for launch. 

“Thanks, BB-8.” Poe says, grabbing his helmet and climbing into the cockpit.

BB-8, already locked into place, beeps cheerfully in greeting.

/Master-Poe has had Assistance from a Friend. But Master-Poe is not in perfect health. Does Master-Poe also require Assistance from a Doctor?/

Poe hums. “After this.”

............

Poe is a confident person. Plenty of people look at him, at his hair and his ship and the rank badge on his arm and mistake his confidence for cockiness. For recklessness - which, he’ll admit, he is guilty of but only ever with himself - and plenty of people assume that he’s an asshole.

It’s not really something that bothers him because it gives him an extra edge. If people think he’s a man prone to biting off more than he can chew then they’ll underestimate him. They won’t expect him to be clever.

So while it can be a bit irritating, Poe doesn’t really care. It doesn’t affect him. He’s earned his place in the Resistance and he’s earned the trust of General Organa. 

Because if there’s one thing Poe will never do, it is pretend that he is more skilled than he actually is. 

(Lies of that nature get people killed. Poe will not do it.)

So when he says that he can fly anything, it’s true. He’s been jumping into cockpits since he could walk. He’s been a pilot since he was five years old and his amused mother had finally agreed to take him up with her into the stars. Poe knows flying like a fish knows water.

Poe’s found that honesty is always better than false hope and he thinks that most people would agree with him there. Better your pilot tells you that the route is impossible rather than he attempts it anyway and gets everyone killed, all because he just couldn’t admit that he wasn’t good enough. 

Poe is the best pilot. Poe is the most reliable pilot. Poe’s loyalty to the Resistance is absolute. All these things earned him the rank of Commander and the respect of his peers.

… And for the first time in his life, Poe finds himself wavering.

There’s a door in his life which he doesn’t want to open. He wants to keep that door shut and locked and away from the daylight.

But Poe is a member of the Resistance, he knows a lot of Resistance secrets, and their deadliest foe has been invading his dreams.

There’s really no other option. 

............

Poe chooses to fly that morning because flying always helps when everything else does not. Flying lets him escape, even if it’s only for a little while.

He looks down and the land flashes green and blue and brown and just like his first ever flight he can’t help but marvel at how little everything looks from the sky.

Usually when he goes out for a patrol it’s all standard manoeuvres, but on days like this, on days when he can feel something threatening to burst out of his chest, he gets to be brilliant.

Poe does barrel-rolls. Sharp dives. Every evasive manoeuvre he can think of and some he just makes up for fun. Poe pushes his ship to the limit and his ship splits the sky in two.

Until his world is disturbed by a tinny voice in his ear.

_“Commander Dameron, General Organa has responded to your request for a meeting and has asked that you return to base immediately.”_

“I hear you.” Poe says. “Turning back now.”

But the main reason Poe chooses to fly that morning is because he gets the feeling that it might be the last time he’ll be allowed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I didn't really have a plot or anything when I posted the first bit because I was just indulging myself and now, there are Things Planned... Ish. Some Things are Planned. Like at least Three Things. That's Enough. Wow I Suck.
> 
> But... yeah. There's a second bit now. Please leave some feedback if you liked this/want to let know about anything. 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr - wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece (doesn't have to be fic stuff, come gush about characters)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams chapter down* Fight me.

Poe was only a teenager when he first met Leia Organa. All skinny limbs and raging hormones, Poe had been driven mute when the alpha whose every footstep echoed into history stopped in front of him and, with a deeply unimpressed expression, asked him just what exactly it was that he planned on doing with her speeder.

The General was old now. She could no longer stride down the halls and bellow out orders like she used to, nor could she fight alongside the Resistance like she did when she brought down the Empire. This did not make her any less respected or formidable, it only meant that when she spoke, you had to lean in closer if you wanted to hear every word.

These days, sadness followed in Leia Organa’s shadow. The deep, weary kind, which spoke of old pain and dear losses, of something slipping out of grasp. They have been friends for a long time, fellow fighters for longer still, but Poe has never learnt what made the General the way she is. He has suspicions; her brother fled, the fact that her mate had not lingered is telling of something, but this a question that he will never ask. He doubts that she will ever tell. The weighty burden on her shoulders seems so at home nowadays.

In the wake of Han Solo’s death, the General continued as normal. She took the hit, accepted the suffering, and kept on going.

Poe does not want to go to her with yet another problem. And he doesn’t. Because when he goes to the General’s rooms, he finds that she is not there.

“I’m afraid that the General has left the base.” C-3PO explains to him regretfully. “You must have missed her by, minutes at most.”

“Did she say when she would return?” Poe asks.

C-P30 wrangles its hands together. “I do not know. The General might be gone for a day at most. Or longer. There’s no way of knowing this time.”

“I need to speak to her about something important.” Poe insists, but it’s no use.

The only thing C-3PO will say is, “Classified!” after which it apologises profusely for being programmed to follow orders.

Poe currently holds the highest level of clearance.

......................................................

He almost wants to go back flying again because the only one he will speak to about this is the General, and if she is not available, what can he do? He doesn’t know the rest of Command well enough to talk to them about it. Their reactions are unknown, unlimited in their possibilities.

But Poe can’t hear another order or tactic or anything that could be used to hurt the Resistance. He knows too much already.

He wanders into the canteen and finds that news of Rey’s return has spread. Maranee stops to tease him about having actual competition to deal with now.

Poe just looks at her and says, “I hear Pava’s been teaching you how to dance,” and the omega shuts up pretty quickly.

“That is private!” Maranee hisses, turning bright red.

“We’re all happy for you.” Poe tells her, a smile pushing its way through the turmoil in his belly. “You’re a good fit.”

Maranee tries to shrug like she’s apathetic to it all. “Well, obviously.” She says, rolling her eyes and striding away.

......................................................

Reluctant as he is to break up the reunion, there’s no one else he can go to at this point. 

......................................................

“I don’t understand.” Finn says, looking between the two of them with deep confusion and more than a little fear. “You’re saying that Kylo Ren has been breaking into your dreams?” 

Poe makes a face just as Rey grumbles something unintelligible and burrows her face further into Finn’s shoulder. 

“That’s the best way of putting it, I guess.” Poe leans back on his hands. “I thought it was just stress, or the mental damage from torture,” and at that word both Rey and Finn flinch. Poe watches them carefully until he’s sure that they’re still with him. Then he continues. “I’ve been with the Resistance for most of my life. I’ve dealt with nightmares before. Everybody who fights gets them at some point, and these ones were more of an inconvenience than anything. I didn’t realize it was something to be worried about until…” He indicates to Rey.

“That definitely wasn’t a nightmare.” Rey says darkly, and without looking Finn pulls her under his arm. 

The two are in the same position that Poe found them in – curled up on Finn’s bed like children, their backs to the wall, intertwined and radiating a sense of peace and contentment which makes some quiet part of his heart ache. 

Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel like an outsider here. But maybe that’s because Rey has taken his jacket off Finn and draped it across their knees like a blanket. 

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.” Rey says just as Finn interrupts with, “There were rumours in the barracks.”

“Rumours?” Poe repeats. 

Finn looks uncomfortable. He always looks uncomfortable whenever he talks about his time in the First Order but there’s an underlying sense of embarrassment present which Poe hasn’t seen before. 

“What rumours?” Rey asks.

Finn frowns but leans forward. “Okay. So.” He starts. “We weren’t supposed to talk about anything which wasn’t related to First Order stuff but there were a lot of stories about Kylo Ren. The guy had a lightsaber for kriff’s sake!” 

Poe gets closer to him. “What were the stories?” He asks gently. 

“He’d break a lot of equipment, mostly.” Finn says, shrugging. “I knew the guys who’d have to go and fix it. They said it was always slash marks and burned metal. He had a really bad temper. But I’d hear other things. They said that Kylo Ren could read your mind. That he could see all your secrets and you couldn’t do a thing about it.” Finn’s gaze goes to the floor. “He looked at me on Jakku and I thought, for one crazy second, that he could tell that I was going to run.” He shakes it off. “I mean, obviously not because we managed to escape, but - maybe that’s something we should think about.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to read someone’s mind if they’re on the opposite side of the galaxy.” Rey says. “I think you have to be physically there with the person.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” Finn points out.

“I’d know if he was here.” Rey says sharply, and her eyes are unyielding, her whole body tightening like a trapped spring, her scent saying, very politely, _don’t push me on this._

And Finn looks at her like he can’t understand a single word she’s saying. He taps her knee uncertainly, and when all that coiling alpha energy is directed at him and where other humans would instantly balk, Finn only raises an eyebrow and says, in a slightly disbelieving tone, “Alright, we get it.” 

Rey deflates.

“Sorry.” Rey says to them both, looking distinctly annoyed with herself.

Finn accepts it with an easy smile. He’s unbothered, if not a little bewildered. “We trust you. If you say he’s not around then he’s not around.”

“That still leaves us with a problem.” Poe says.

Finn exhales roughly and clambers to his feet. He turns round to where Rey and Poe are both still sitting on the bed and holds his hands out imploringly. “Look, Rey helped you last night, right?”

“Yes.” How it would have ended had she not, Poe is unsure, but that much he knows for certain. 

Finn nods. “So just sleep with us tonight.”

Poe raises his eyebrows. “You’re serious?” He asks, glancing at Rey who is staring at him thoughtfully.

“Yeah, it’s not like it’s going to be a hardship.” Finn says. “You’re our friend, we don’t want you to get hurt, it makes sense.”

“Yeah. We should do it.” Rey agrees. 

“Well, thank you.” Poe says. “With luck the General will be back before I have to intrude on you two though.”

Finn groans and order him to shut up before collapsing back onto the bed with them.

......................................................

Again, he leaves empty-handed. 

Poe wasn’t expecting the three of them to come up with a solution, not when the problem lies half-way between Force territory - which only Rey has some understanding of and that knowledge is (for now) very limited, only gained by feeling through the darkness for anything solid - and half-way between the territory of alphas and omegas - and here Poe may be an expert but it doesn’t solve anything, not when the usual answers are wrapped up in the mess that the Jedi Knights and their enemies left behind for the next generation to pick their way through. 

The dynamics situation is a strange one. Rey and Finn have improved by leaps and bounds since arriving at the base. Rey has learned that is better not to snarl when someone she doesn’t know stares at her possessions. She’s also getting better at reading signals. Poe suspects that her isolated upbringing is responsible for the lack of control - that alpha bite must have saved her skin in the past, it makes sense that she would hold it so close even now.

Finn remains as contradictory as ever, omega sweetness one day and beta calmness the next, but he’s losing his fear of alphas. 

Before Finn used to keep his distance. Didn’t like talking to them much, his scent flickering with unease whenever a large group came near him. It deeply unnerved Poe until one night before Rey returned to them, Finn finally explained that in the First Order all the commanders were alphas, and if you had their attention it often meant you were in trouble. 

“I know it’s different here but it’s kind of a hard habit to break.” Finn said, smiling sadly. “It’s just a reflex to duck at this point.” 

(Finn has never appeared to feel the same way about Rey but Poe doesn’t bother dwelling on the implications of that. He can see where that particular road ends and he only wonders how long it will take them to walk it.) 

Rey is the one who worries Poe. There is a reason alphas have a tendency to be warriors, but to her credit she’s kind and good-natured and the worry Poe feels is less due to her handful of lost ideas about dynamics and more about the territory that he can’t teach her about. 

The Force is unknown to him but it’s becoming more and more obvious that alphas who wield the Force act differently to ones who don’t. They react to things that only they can see. 

Poe is good, but he is out of his depth with this one. 

......................................................

General Organa has not returned by the time that night falls. 

Poe stands and waits, staring up at the empty night sky, the cold breeze wafting gently through his hair. 

He stays there until the night guard comes along and politely asks him to return indoors, which he does, albeit with slow steps, looking back over his shoulder the whole time. 

......................................................

Out of options, Poe returns to Rey and Finn who impatiently pull him into their bed. 

“It’s better this way.” Rey whispers. “This way if something happens, I can be here to stop it.” 

“And I can be here to offer moral support,” whispers Finn, who’s quiet for a second before he continues with, “You know you smell good all the time and I’ve just figured out that it’s your hair wash? Can I borrow it?” 

Unsurprisingly Finn is asleep first, his stint in med bay having left a long-felt mark on his stamina, but Poe suspects his ease is born from something much more natural. Rey hugs Finn’s outstretched arm to her chest and her breathing is slow and gentle by the end of the first hour, her fear and alarm washed away by Finn’s scent (and Poe’s too perhaps.)

It’s a lot harder for Poe but then again he doesn’t want to fall asleep in the first place. His mind is open ground and there’s nowhere to hide and Poe might be brave but he isn’t stupid, he’ll avoid a fight until he either has no other choice or he’s sure that he’s got an ace up his sleeve.

(He thinks he does. The thought scares him more than he can say.) 

There is something else stopping him and it tastes like the familiar poison that has killed a thousand pilots before him. Pride. 

While he can’t imagine that they would laugh - or even understand - the prospect of having to explain how a nightmare could ruin their bedsheets is vastly unappealing to him. Poe’s never been ashamed of the biological quirks that come with being born omega (why would he?) but… but this is something else. His response is all wrong. These aren’t the good kind of dreams where a little slick is cause for teasing in the morning. There’s only so much he can wave away as instinct, a natural reaction to a threat that might retract its fangs if you only smile at it oh so sweetly.

So Poe does not sleep, and he dreams of nothing.

Day breaks and his face is pale when he looks in the mirror. Beside him, Finn bites his lip. He’s upset. But not with Poe.

“You’ll have to sleep sometime, you know.” He says, putting a hand on his shoulder. The warmth seeps into Poe’s cooling skin and he sways slightly. The touch is reassuring despite the reminder that accompanies it. 

......................................................

Perhaps it’s all finally hitting him or perhaps Poe is just getting older and he can’t stay up all night and still feel fine in the morning, but the next day is a struggle. 

Fatigue envelops him like a gloomy fog and he moves slowly around the base. Food tastes bland in his mouth and he only swallows because he knows it will help in the end. It’s lucky that he has no missions to run because he doubts how well he’d be able to perform if he was ordered into a cockpit. 

Everywhere he goes he’s followed by Rey and Finn, who in the bustling corridors of the base seem to shrink into one another and Poe remembers just how bizarre the last few weeks must have been for them. The presence of so many people, so many other humans, alphas and betas and omegas alike, many of whom will call out greetings to their little group, must undoubtably be a strange change.

Rey and Finn are hovering, but Poe does not mind it in the slightest. 

He wants to speak to General Organa as soon as she's back so they all agree to go the hanger bay. 

Poe intends to occupy himself with some non-essential maintenance work on his X-wing but Rey pokes her head over his shoulder with a question and suddenly Poe is showing her the main engine. Rey’s delighted to see something new and Finn is content to watch them poke around with it because in his own words, “I don’t know what any of those words mean but you look like you’re enjoying yourself so - count me out.” 

Maybe the universe has decided to be kind today because it’s only noon when BB-8 rolls towards them, finally free of maintenance repair and desperate for some kind of attention.

Poe falls to his knees so he can run his hands over the newly buffed droid. “Hey, that wasn’t so bad now, was it? You look great!”

BB-8 beeps in agreement, and upon spotting Rey appear from the other side of the X-wing it bounces and starts rolling around her feet happily, flat out ignoring Finn’s irritation at nearly being tripped over “-again!” 

/BB-8 is glad to see Friend-Rey return! Was it a good adventure?/

Rey smiles. “I think so. In fact-” 

She suddenly stops, and with a thousand-mile stare, she turns and looks out over the lake. 

“Rey?” Finn asks, brows furrowed.

Rey slowly closes her eyes, and after a few tense minutes during which they can only watch and wait, she says, with a vague bit of confidence, “Skywalker is coming.” She opens her eyes again. “Yes. I can feel it.” She frowns. “I think the General is with him.” 

Which explains one thing, Poe thinks, as he scans the horizon for any sign of incoming ships.

“Private family reunion?” Finn guesses. 

“They haven’t seen each other in years.” Rey reminds him, her eyes wistful.

Ten minutes have passed by the time that Poe spots the General’s ship. 

The ship lands without fan faire. The General emerges. 

The man who follows her wears a hooded cloak and walks slowly, looking for all the world like any other tired traveller going about their business. Only he isn't, and everyone present knows it. 

Rey rushes over to greet him, talking a mile a minute but too quiet for Poe to know what exactly is being said but he wouldn't be listening even if he could hear, transfixed by the sight of the legendary Jedi Knight _alive_ and _real_ and _right there in front of him_.

Something about the way Luke Skywalker moves speaks of a power that Poe does not understand. He can feel the omega presence clear as day but that’s because he’s looking for it; Luke Skywalker doesn’t wave his influence around, keeps it lingering at the edges, there but out of the way. 

General Organa acknowledges Finn’s presence with a friendly nod. Her eyes come to rest on Poe and something in her face tightens. But she doesn’t say or do anything other than look back at her brother, who stops in the middle of talking to Rey to glance over at him.

“This,” And when he speaks his voice is level and neutral, “must be the pilot I hear so much about. You’re the best in the Resistance, my sister tells me.”

“Yes, sir.” Poe says, because he can’t lie.

Luke Skywalker studies him. “It’s an honour,” He says, extending a hand for Poe to shake and suddenly Poe’s head just - _breaks_ and pain _splits him_ and he yells and he can feel Kylo’s breath on the back of his neck and _oh_ he’s _furious_ like never before but it’s not at Poe it’s at - _and it hurts so much why does it hurt so -_

The pain abruptly vanishes.

Poe blinks and finds that he’s on the ground, his head in Finn’s lap. Rey and the General are peering down at him; Rey, alarmed and scared, the General, carefully blank. 

Finn lets out a hysterical laugh when he sees that Poe is awake. “Holy - don’t do that. Don’t ever do that again.”

Poe stares at the underside of Finn’s chin with bleary eyes, struggling to compose himself. He wants to get up but he doesn’t think that he has the strength.

“Well,” Luke Skywalker says. He’s crouched down at Poe's side. His expression is grave. “This might be a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *spends more time trying to write authors note than editing the chapter*
> 
> Please leave a comment/feedback you liked the chapter or if you noticed any mistakes. :) It's 4 am and I have to work tomorrow but if you're mediocre like me you gotta strike when motivation hits you. I hope everyone's healthy and doing okay. 
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr at wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece (has anyone seen that poe dameron gifset where it's like 'he's so tall' because I can't take it seriously at all. Oscar Isaac is a lot of things but tall is not one of them.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.
> 
> It's me.

They put him on a bed and the whole room _spins_.

His brain feels like it’s swimming in oil and each thought drifts slowly by; he cannot grasp them, they’re clouds in a sky of nothing, they disintegrate...

It’s like drinking, only without the buzz.

Poe’s dimly aware of a hand carding through his hair. He thinks it might be Finn’s.

“Is he going to be okay?” (It’s Finn.) “Hey - don’t walk away! Tell me what’s happening to him!”

There’s… nothing, then, “He needs rest.”

Something blue and pink appears in Poe’s line of vision, a weird faceless shape whose scent makes him recoil backwards.

Aris takes his arm anyway, pulls out a blurred thing which sharpens into fearful realisation just as the alpha plunges it into Poe’s skin.

“That’ll help?” Finn asks, then the world falls away.

____________________________

Poe is used to waking up all at once. It’s rare to find a fighter who can resurface in gradual bursts and he is no exception to that rule; sleepy confusion is a luxury that he gave up a long time ago.

So he knows he’s been drugged before the fractured memory of it comes back to him, he drifts into awareness like driftwood floats to shore, steadily, persistently, until he recognises the surface under his fingertips, can faintly smell the chemicals that no amount of washing could ever remove, and slowly, becomes aware of how he’s not alone.

All his life, Poe has heard stories about Luke Skywalker. This was the man who brought down the Empire. The saviour of the galaxy. One of the best pilots who ever lived. A Jedi Master.

The man sitting by himself in the corner does not fit the picture all those stories painted for him.

Luke Skywalker used to exist across a chasm, bright and shiny and far away from everything. Now Poe can see the lines of the omega’s face, can study the dark shadows and the restless eyes, can wonder why he ever left.

It’s strange, and it’s all Poe can really think about. He’s powerless to look away.

There’s something else, something which feels like - _get_ _out_ \- just… lingering out of sight, or out of mind. But Poe can discard it so easily, so it can’t be important. It’s just him and this old legend, who's actually looking at Poe now, yes, he’s gotten up out of his chair, come closer, he can smell the ocean on the man’s robes, waves and mud and something buried deep.

The brown fabric looks soft. Poe wonders idly whether it will feel the same if he reaches out and touches it.

He tries and his arm moves uselessly on the bed. But it’s not a cause for concern because there isn’t an ounce of hostility in the way the Jedi stares at him. Just, tiredness... and sadness. A discontent that feels well-used. Poe can trust him.

Luke Skywalker sighs.

“For what it’s worth,” He says softly, lifting a hand and letting it hover over Poe’s furrowed forehead. “I am sorry that this has happened to you.”

Poe doesn’t understand, right up until he’s throwing his head back and screaming.

(Only this time he doesn’t black out. He’s conscious for _everything_.)

The agony - Poe feels it all, he writhes on the bed as his mind shudders under the intrusion - splintering, falling away into blackness as light sears a path through it, this is _unnatural_ , and - Pava’s laughing and she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen -

(No - don’t do this, all you need to do is ask, all you need to do is -)

Grease under his fingernails and this will take a while to fix - an endless sky and no one is coming home this time - a tight frown and a file marked ‘classified’ - alarms blaring and his heart beating a mile a minute - learning his letters and tracing the L for -

(That hurts -)

Broken bodies lost forever and their intel wasn’t right - rain on the first day and the air smells clean - explosions and screaming and this settlement is lost - he’s going to join the Resistance and be just like his mother - that general won’t stop staring and maybe that’s a way out - something’s burning and he thinks it might be his food -

(“Please…” Poe chokes out; it does no good.)

The water tastes like heaven and there isn’t enough of it in the galaxy - this alpha smiles at him constantly and what does that mean - the target explodes and that’s a direct hit - heat burns every inch of his body and he’d give anything to get that sweet release - grazed palms and his teacher looks so disapproving - the last piece of the puzzle and the First Order can’t be allowed to have it, he’ll die first -

(Why is this happening -)

Pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and pain and masks and _GET_ _OUT_ _OLD_ _MAN_ -

“Luke, stop it!”

The pressure sucks away. Poe coughs up bile and curls onto his side, hugging his chest as shudders course through his body. Hands come and cradle him, warm and gentle, and Poe breathes deep as General Organa strokes his hair and carefully wipes away the mess from his face, murmuring soothing assurances. He zeroes in on the steady thrum of her voice; it rocks him back into normality.

A few minutes, and he can open his eyes again. But the General has gone so hazy above him…

“This is too much.” She says, worried and angry and raw. (And her voice comes from so far away…) “You’re hurting him!”

Still hurting him. Gravity has gone mad and Poe would grab onto something - anything - but he can only fumble for the General’s wrists which are small, fragile, old (and this alpha will not do at all.)

“Wait.” Luke Skywalker replies, calm and unmoved, the port in the storm. A strange fury rises from Poe’s gut like acid.

The fire consumes him entirely and Poe feels red hot as he snarls, “ _Get_ _away_ _from_ _me_ ,” but when the words are ripped from his throat they take the last of his strength with them. He’s spent. He had nothing in the beginning and now he has even less.

Tears start to slide down his cheeks. He doesn't want to sleep again.

Suddenly Luke Skywalker is shaking his shoulders. “Poe, I need you to listen.” He says, serious now. “I need you to keep your distance from him. Don’t reach out. Don’t fight. Just think of something else, anything else. No matter what you feel, do only that, do you understand?”

Poe stares into those piercing blue eyes and wonders why it’s getting colder.

“Poe,” Luke Skywalker says, grip tightening. “I can’t save you like this. You can’t make it any worse. Do you understand?”

The urgency in his voice is alarming, just as it is disengaged from everything; Poe can’t feel it, can’t smell it, the only thing he can smell is burning metal.

Luke Skywalker shouts at him. Poe can’t hear a word but he recognises the shape of his name on the old man’s lips. The lights start to fade out and still the old omega holds his gaze, mouth moving furiously, the same line, over and over again and some sharper part of Poe quickly grasps it and holds it close just before darkness hits him and knocks all the air out of his chest.

_______________________________________

A second later (or maybe it’s an age, it’s hard to tell exactly where the lines are) Poe sucks in a breath and yells.

“Fuck!”

He holds his head and hisses, keeps his eyes clamped tightly shut as he waits it out.

Thankfully the pain does not last forever. But in it's absence, something else creeps in.

Slowly, slowly, Poe sits up off the floor, which is humming under him (ship, smaller vessel) and lets his eyes adjust to the gloom. It’s like stepping into a mirror world, only this room is full of dark surfaces and a single exit, clinical and cold (yet all the edges seem to blur) and barren of life.

Except for the figure hunched over in the far corner.

“I suppose,” Kylo Ren starts, and the steadiness of his voice does not match the seething violence which rolls off him in ever growing waves. “You thought you were being clever.” The alpha scoffs. It’s a bad sound. “Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the Resistance. What an honour, to finally have your attention.” Kylo Ren turns his head a fraction. Still does not look at Poe. “Unfortunately, you succeeded in getting mine.”

Poe doesn’t move a muscle. “I’ve always been a flashy guy.” He says softly. Watches those clenched fists turn white.

Kylo Ren straightens up. “Yes. Now that I think of it, that is true.”

He says nothing else. Neither does Poe. The silence between them stretches out further and further and it’s only a matter of time before it breaks beyond repair.

 _How_ _exactly,_ _do_ _you_ _play_ _this…_

Without moving an inch, Poe scans his environment, and confirms what he already suspects.

 _How_ _exactly,_ _do_ _you_ _play_ _this,_ _when_ _it’s_ _not_ _your_ _dream?_

Kylo Ren is a rigid line of black. Poe remembers what Finn told him about their lightsaber battle; the man is a wild, aggressive fighter, his blows more brute force than finesse, with an extremely long reach. Strong with the Force. Do not engage. Run away and live to fight another day.

That’s not an option though.

“Aren’t you normally more talkative than this?” Kylo Ren comments. “Or maybe…” He slowly turns around.

Were it not for the hate simmering in his eyes (lined with shadows and stress, and this one is very close to the edge) it would be like Kylo Ren was wearing a mask for all the emotion that shows on his face. It’s not good. Poe can sense the rage growing and knows it won’t let itself be locked away forever.

“Maybe…” Kylo Ren continues, voice so light that it barely leaves an imprint. “You think that if you make yourself small, and stay as quiet as a mouse, that I somehow won’t see you.”

The rustle of the alpha’s clothes is so incredibly loud.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Presume. _A_ _thing_.” Kylo Ren hisses.

Poe’s heart is thudding in his chest. He thinks he might be sick.

“Alright,” Poe says gently. He holds the alpha’s gaze and slowly starts to get to his feet. Emerges from a crouch and rises until he’s standing. Powers past the voice screaming _provocation_ and faces Kylo Ren directly, but keeps his head ever so slightly turned away (he does not trust Kylo Ren’s control at all). “Perhaps we could have an actual conversation then.”

Kylo Ren watches him. Still wrathful but apparently willing to wait.

Poe swallows. “What is this place?” He asks, very carefully gesturing at their surroundings. “Is this real?”

“Yes.” Kylo Ren says, still as death except for the way he’s examining Poe with narrowed eyes. “And no.”

He doesn’t elaborate.

They stare at each other.

“Wow, I forgot what a rousing conversationalist you are.” says Poe.

Kylo Ren doesn’t react at all. Just keeps on staring at him.

“Is this real?” Poe asks again. Floundering never helped anybody. “Did something happen? Or am I just going crazy?”

And it's a step too far onto a goddamn land mine.

“ _Crazy?”_ Kylo Ren repeats with savage disbelief.

Poe immediately backs down but it’s too late; the floodgates have been unleashed and now all the anger that was buried is surfacing and any tentative control Poe might have had over the situation has been yanked out from under him.

“You don’t know what crazy is!” Kylo Ren snarls, eyes wide and full of fury. “You think you are in hell now? Just wait!” And it’s terrifying, how the alpha looks so certain. “Just wait. You’ll know madness soon enough! I promise you!”

_Get out get out get out -_

“What the hell does that mean?” Poe yells back - screw it - he storms forward, no plan in mind except to finally get some damn answers, only Kylo Ren stumbles backwards and bares his teeth at him.

And Poe stops.

Uneasiness coils in his belly.

He hadn’t noticed it before (or maybe it only became visible just now, he isn’t sure how the rules work here) but Kylo Ren looks wrecked. His skin is far too pale to be healthy and there’s a glimmer of sweat on his brow. More than that the alpha is breathing strangely, like he’s been fighting a war and the battleground has been his own body.

He doesn’t look _right_.

“What’s happening to you?” Poe whispers.

Kylo Ren laughs. It’s bitter. And desperate. And insane.

“You are.” Kylo says, his tone so very gentle, and blood begins to trickle out of his nose.

 _Shit_ _-_

Poe doesn’t think. He rushes forward, falls to his knees the same time Kylo’s legs give out from under him, reaches over to grab his shoulders only -

_No matter what you feel._

And he freezes with his hands inches away from the alpha’s grimacing face.

Kylo stares at him with a focus which keeps wavering. He opens his mouth to speak but only coughs up more blood instead. 

The room starts to shake and the walls begin to disintegrate into dust. An icy wind whips the dust up into a frenzy, it whirls around them, scratches the floor away until the only solid thing left in the dark storm is the little bit they're both kneeling on, and even that begins to falter, leaking out from under them.

All the while, Kylo just stares at him and looks so tired.

Poe wants more than anything to lean forward and help him but he remembers now, he remembers what Luke Skywalker said, he remembers that this man tortured him, tried to kill him, remembers that this man has killed so many of his friends, has killed millions, that this man is the enemy that Poe swore he'd fight till the very end.

Kylo Ren needs to be tried for his crimes. His victims deserve justice.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Kylo Ren deserves to die.

“But you’re _mine_.” Poe says, his voice breaking, and when Kylo falls he catches him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry but as much as I enjoy writing this story, I can't promise a regular update schedule. Just not possible when you a) suck majorly and b) have two jobs. (I mean my January was especially crazy but I'm just gonna bank on my being useless later on and give you warning now.)
> 
> I imagine you get the point by now but I still can't fully express how awesome your feedback is and I really can't get my head around most of it. (also angryqueenengineer on tumblr did freaking fan art wtf). I mean, you're all really cool. Thank you. :) 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr - wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *appears from over a cliff edge* HOLY SHIT. GUYS. WE MADE IT. WE MADE IT. OH WAS IT JUST ME CLIMBING? OKAY. WELL I MADE IT GUYS. I MADE IT. 
> 
> N.B. For the sake of everything, I combined two chapters into one (the first bit was actually complete for a while - don't hit me - but I struggled to post, and in the end here is everything) Also I've been referring to this chapter as the 'take a deep breath' chapter, because a big part of it is people having their feelings. 
> 
> Did struggle with this. In the end I had to hark back to the good old mantra that helped me write chapter one, summed up as - fuck you insecurity I'm gonna post my shitty fan fiction on the internet no matter what you say because I can't look at it anymore. 
> 
> So, hey there. :)

“They’re bonded.” Finn declares.

Poe looks to where Finn is pointing. “Oh yeah. Long time now.”

Finn punches the air in triumph. Poe dutifully applauds him. 

 “This isn't hard at all! You made it sound so difficult.” Finn says, shooting Poe a slightly suspicious glance even as he looks so very pleased with himself. “I don’t know whether you’re taking it easy on me because I’m injured or because I’m a dumb stormtrooper but either way, I am _winning_.”

Poe smiles and chooses not to comment. Finn was only joking this time.

Instead he says, “See if you can spot another one.”

 ....

Before the return of the girl with fire in her eyes, Poe and Finn had spent a lot of their mornings people-watching. It was as peaceful an activity as could be found on a bustling Resistance base and one of the few the doctors had deemed safe for a man who at that point, still could not walk unaided.

Early on Finn was quiet on those mornings, too preoccupied with his poor health, too aware of the empty space where Rey used to be and lastly, too bewildered over the fact that Poe chose to keep him company in all his silence.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Finn would say, staring pointedly at the ceiling even as his gaze continued to wander back to Poe every few minutes or so.

He hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone then. When there was no looming crisis at hand Finn’s perfect instincts for battle struggled to accommodate the weight of everyday life; he was a fish out of water and muscle-memory would only go so far. The early days hadn’t been great for anyone.

But Finn persevered. As his health recovered so did his spirits, and the deeply expressive, wide-eyed man who cared so much slowly came back. 

...

Down the hall, Maranee and Pava come into view. They’re deep in conversation over the contents of Pava’s data pad and totally oblivious to the looks of the passing medical staff who don’t appear appreciative of all the noise.

When Finn spots them he immediately shuts up and sits up straighter in bed.

Poe casually sips his water.

“Bonded.” Finn announces.

“Nope.” Poe shakes his head, grinning when Finn turns confused eyes on him. “Just good friends who screw.”

Finn makes a face. “You’re telling me that they’re not bonded?” He waves a hand in the air as if to encompass everything that surrounded the two women. “I don’t buy it.” He says flatly. “There is definitely something there and it’s big. I can feel it.”

“Well… maybe you get a half-point for that,” Poe allows. “They’re close. They could bond. But they haven’t.”

“Why not?” Finn asks.

“Who knows? Think about how complicated relationships are even when you take biology out of the mix. They wouldn’t be the first to put all that off until they figure everything out.”

Poe glances at Finn, wonders at how best to go about explaining. He doesn’t want to treat Finn like an idiot because he’s really not, Poe hasn’t actually met anyone as good as working on the fly as Finn does, but Poe has also learned the hard way that when it comes to certain subjects, things need to be spelled out.

In the end he says, “Do you know how I know they’re not bonded?”

“Aside from them being your friends, you mean?”

“What’s missing from Maranee?”

Finn frowns, and looks.

“… A jacket?” He guesses.

Poe taps his neck. “No bite.” He says. “Alphas love to bite.”

Finn glances back at him with the sort of deliberate nonchalance which immediately tells Poe where he’s looking. Funny how he hadn’t appeared to have noticed Poe’s bare neck before now. Finn must have walked past so many humans and not thought one bit about the space on their shoulders. (And if he does not know then someone will definitely need to speak to Rey - before she gives something she cannot take back.)

“So what does everyone else do?” Finn asks, once he's finished with his unsubtle examination.

“Whatever feels right for them, I guess.” Poe eyes Finn. “Bonding is a decision, Finn. Sex doesn’t make a bond. Wild parties and near-death experiences don’t make a bond. It’s something you choose. And it’s not a solve-all cure for your problems.”

Finn takes a moment to mull that over.

“So all those stories about people meeting and everything just falling into place…” He starts.

“Two people might feel a spark…” Poe says carefully.

“But anything more than that…” Finn trails off.

Poe shakes his head. “Just stories, I'm afraid.”

...

...............

.................................

...........................................................

Again he wakes up to slow-moving hurt, an empty room, and the dawning realization that he just committed a grave error.

It’s a different room than before. He doesn’t know this one and he’s been in and out of Med Bay more often than most. More troubling, is the fact that he’s no longer wearing his flight uniform. Someone dressed him in basic whites instead – which means he’s going to be here for a while. Officially admitted.

There aren’t any drugs in his system; Poe can sit up with ease, there’s no lag.

He looks at the lone door and knows it will be locked before he tries to open it. 

“Hello?” Poe asks, keeping his voice low but making no attempt to hide his discomfort. “I need to speak with the General. It’s urgent.”

There’s no answer. Not even from a droid.

Poe clears his throat. “Is anyone there?” He asks again, and when the silence continues to stretch on he can hardly believe it. “Hey! Don’t leave me in here, dammit!”

His shout does not echo because the room is so small, but the fury of it lingers.

Poe looks around again.

The vitals monitor makes a satisfying noise when he slams his fist into it.

“HELLO?” He waits. “ANYONE?”

A tiny click from over his shoulder and -  _"Poe! Calm down!"_

Poe twists round and presses close to the speaker. “Aris? What’s going on? Where’s the General?”

 _"Not here."_ The alpha doctor sounds like he's all business today, which isn't great for Poe. Aris is going to be either extremely handy or incredibly annoying.  _"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were awake. I've been put in charge of monitoring you for the foreseeable future."_

“The hell?” Poe mutters.

_“Precautionary measure, I think. Don’t worry. As far as I can tell there’s nothing medically wrong with you that a little rest won’t heal.”_

“Nothing at all?” Poe lips his licks and shifts a little closer. “Just exactly what sort of readings are you getting from me, Aris?”

The smallest pause, and then, _gotcha -_   _"As it stands right now, your body is severely overworked. A day ago you were on the verge of collapse. Also, and this really isn't good, your hormone levels are higher than what they should be. Not enough to be dangerous but it's obvious that you've been under a great deal of stress. It's had an impact on your health."_  

Aris talks like he’s reading off a data pad but there’s no hiding the distinctively unamused tone of a thwarted medical professional. Despite being the one pushing for information Poe wants to duck his head and apologise, childhood stumbles and their subsequent treatments not forgotten so easily. 

_"This really wasn't smart, Poe. Look, I'm not a soldier, I don't know what it's like to do what you guys do everyday, but letting the bad stuff fester - it never ends well."_

Poe sighs, closing his eyes. “Please, no lectures. I was dumb, I get it.”

He leans away and sits with his back against the wall, rests his hands over his knees. He looks around his room, so uncomfortably clean and devoid of any scent other than his own. “…So what now?” He says softly. “What are your orders?”

 _“I’ve been instructed to watch you… make sure you’re in good health, which you generally are, the ‘routine fatigue’ aside,”_ And the disapproval in that sentence could kill a thousand dreams. _“But that’s as far as my orders actually extend. A droid would be better suited for this job, I did recommend getting yours in but the General wanted a person to do it and I was the only human who was free, so…”_

“Human?” Poe repeats.

_“Medically speaking you’re fine, Poe. If this was related to dynamics it would show in the scans. It’s not that.”_

“Why would she ask for a human specifically if it wasn’t related somehow?” Poe asks, searching out the little camera perched in the top left corner. He wonders if Aris is alone up there.

 _“Who knows? The General will have had a reason.”_ And that is something that Poe would never question.“ _But I told you before. You’re worn out and you definitely need to address whatever it is that’s causing you so much stress… But that’s it. There’s nothing I can give you that rest won’t. Some regenerative compounds, perhaps, but there are other patients who need them more.”_

“I understand.” He wouldn’t have taken them even if they’d been available. He feels an odd sort of resentment right now and the only thing worse than its biting presence is that he isn't sure whether or not he can lay all the blame for it at the feet of trauma. 

 _“So you’ll get back into bed for me?_ ” Aris asks hopefully.

Poe glances at the door.

“Yeah.”

The pillow feels strange, oddly shaped. Like it's new. Poe lays idle hands on the crisp blanket and stares up at the ceiling. After a moment he asks, “Can you patch me in with the General from here?”

_“She's unavailable right now. I think you’re just going to have to be patient for a little while longer.”_

That's a bad sign. What's pulled her away? Is it Poe?

(Is it something worse?)

“What do I do until then?” Poe demands.

_"Try sleeping. I know it isn't fun but remember that you're basically running on empty. You need a break."_

Poe frowns. “No.” He says quietly, and then in a firmer voice, “Something else.”

There’s silence for about a minute as Aris struggles; either with his medical conscience which is no doubt arguing for Poe’s sedation, or with finding something which is sufficiently entertaining enough to occupy a grounded pilot but not something that would violate the terms of his detainment, whatever they may be.

(And Poe knows that he cannot make for a pretty sight, tired and fractured as he is, but maybe it’s enough.)

Aris clears his throat and is clearly trying to sound very official when he says, _“I need to cut down costs. Field kits have too many supplies. If you want, maybe you could… give me advice. You’ll have a better idea of what’s needed.”_

It’s a good idea. Also a clever way of keeping the conversation going. Perhaps Aris is not as blind as he appears.

“Sure. Whatever you want.” Poe says, and fixes his eyes on the ceiling.

...

So they talk. Or rather, Aris talks and Poe half-listens, interjecting with a suggestion the few times Aris runs out of things to expand upon. It’s mind-numbingly boring in the way that only grudge work is, but it keeps Aris happy and Poe busy, and if the crisp blanket bears several indents from his restless fingers by the time that Aris starts making noises about contacting the General again then, well, who’s watching?

_“I’ll tell her you want to speak with her but I make no promises.”_

Poe hums his acknowledgement. He stopped offering actual sentences once he figured out that the alpha was content with simply having his un(divided) attention.

For a brief few moments, Poe is left in total silence.

_“Poe, I spoke with General Organa. She says you’re to stay here for now. She says not to do anything drastic and that she’ll see you soon.”_

He doesn’t move. “Anything else?”

 _“She also said it would be best if you were sedated tonight. Natural sleep is not advisable, apparently.”_ Aris clearly didn’t appreciate not being told the reasons why. Poe keeps quiet. “ _So… I’m guessing you know how to insert a basic IV line. I’d do it myself but you’re technically quarantined so, it’s the one with the blue label, 1-12. Hooked on the side of the monitor that you hit earlier.”_

Poe doesn’t even need to get out of bed to reach it. “Like this?” He says, as he slides the little needle into his arm.

_“Perfect. Alright, you’ll feel the effects in a few minutes. Someone will relieve me while you’re under so don’t be surprised if you hear a new voice in the morning.”_

“Okay.” Poe says, and then because he has to, “Thanks for keeping me company.”

Predictably Aris sounds a lot warmer when he next speaks and Poe is suddenly full of unfamiliar fondness for this alpha who knows the dance so well. 

_"My pleasure. Good night, Poe."_

But because life is cruel, Aris doesn't stop there.

_"Sweet dreams.”_

...

When all else fails, when the plan has fallen apart and the fleet is scattered and the world is going to hell, Poe falls back to the basics, to lesson one, to what used to be the standard daily mantra back when he sat at a breakfast table with one forever empty chair and one silent shadow in another, and his feet dangled an inch off the floor.

Simply put – don’t.

Don’t feel.

Don’t feel it. Not yet. You can’t afford to do it just yet.

So Poe draws a line in the sand and he puts everything on one side, and then he puts himself on the other.

It’s not forever. This sort of thing is not sustainable, or healthy, and besides, the tide is coming in. But it works for now. Poe works for now. It will be enough. And on the other side, he will rebuild it all, and he will build it so it does not ever fall down.

...

“Aris?” The drugs work fast but Poe is faster and he has urgency hissing through his veins. “ _Aris_?”

The alpha’s voice comes back instantly. _“Poe? You’re spiking – what’s wrong? What do you need?”_

She's right and she knows best and she is not cruel and she can be relied upon to protect him and -

But what if she can't protect him from this? Because General Organa would move whole stars to save a single person but she left him behind before and it was a horrible thing for her to do and she hated herself for it but she still _did_ _it_  -

_“Poe? Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what you need!”_

He clamps down, orders _don't you dare break now_ and _you will survive this_ and doesn't give up anything else to the storm. He's far from a green pilot - he's survived worse than isolation in a tiny room. This will not break him. 

_"Poe?"_

Poe chuckles weakly. “Don't worry about it.”

........................

..........

...

So Poe endures. One slip-up doesn’t always mean you die and sometimes a moment of weakness is just that - a moment.

It pays off.

Another day has passed (21 hours, roughly ten minutes or so) when Luke Skywalker returns to him.

Poe wakes (always waking, always sleeping, never _doing_ anymore) and has the bizarre privilege of watching the old Jedi sleep, slumped in a chair next to Poe, cloak wrapped tightly around him. 

The light in the hospital room isn’t exactly flattering, too washed out and overly bright, it drains even the most determined shreds of colour from the man’s clothes and skin. Weirdly enough, it makes Poe feel a little better about his current state; having proof that the room really was as depressing as it made his mood.

The old man stirs after a few seconds. Blue eyes open and look at Poe.

They stare at each other for a moment, then Poe, suddenly unwilling to be on his back for this, starts lifting himself up onto his elbows.

The action is evidently a painful thing for Luke Skywalker to witness. “Please don’t be afraid.” He says in gentle undertone. “I only mean to talk with you.”

“You hurt me.” Poe says plainly. 

“Yes.” Luke Skywalker nods his head. Simple. An acceptance of facts. Oddly calming. “And I’m sorry. I thought I could help you.”

Poe eyes him. “Didn’t really feel like you were helping.”

“No, I suppose not.” Luke Skywalker says.

They lapse into silence.

“Where’s General Organa?” Poe asks.

“Busy with another crisis.” Her brother replies. “She would be here if she could. She cares a lot about you.” He pauses. “I’m sorry that we left you alone for so long. My attempt to untangle your mind drained me of everything I had. I have been recovering, same as you.”

Poe didn’t remember Luke Skywalker looking even remotely strained during their last, turbulent meeting, but he looks it now. He’s calm, like the surface of a lake, but also far too still.

“In my absence my sister did what she thought was best and put you in quarantine. Until I was strong enough to help again.”

“... Someone could have said something,” Poe says resignedly. “I’m not a big fan of enclosed spaces with no way out.”

“Forgive Leia. She only wanted what was best for you.”

“I know, that’s the main reason I didn’t try and break out.” Poe says, starting to feel irritated now. 

Something strange enters the old man’s eyes. An odd light. “You wanted to run?” He asks, intently focused on Poe’s face.

“… Well, I don’t want to stay here any longer,” Poe replies. It’s the truth, as best he can put it.

The intensity fades. 

Luke Skywalker leans back in his chair, nods thoughtfully to himself. 

“I see…” He says, clearly somewhere else. Then Luke Skywalker actually _shrugs_ and says, “Well, I can’t say that I don’t understand the inclination.”

Poe isn’t sure whether he has the right to even acknowledge the full weight of that statement.

He settles for, “Yeah, bed rest really isn’t any fun,” eying the other omega warily. “But hey, if the General thought it was good idea then I’m not going to argue with her.” 

Luke Skywalker studies him for a long minute. “You’re not angry with her at all, are you?” He observes, sounding genuinely curious. “You were left to your fate and yet you’d still follow my sister into hell itself if she asked it of you.”

His voice has a gentle edge to it and it’s abundantly obvious that they’re not talking about this particular cell room anymore.

Poe pointedly does not react. “The General’s ordered me into hell many times, I can’t start complaining about it all now.” He shrugs his shoulders, not sure what it exactly is that needs explaining here - at least not to the General’s _brother_. “She always lets me know when I’m going to be fighting the fire. That’s all I ask.”

“Hm.” Something that looks like approval flickers in the old man’s eyes. “I hope you will allow me the same leniency then.” 

“Perhaps,” Poe says, still frowning. “But your sister never lied to me. She gave me all the facts. She never ran. I trust General Organa with my life.” He considers his next words carefully. “And even though you hurt me, and you went into my head without my permission, I think I trust you too. She clearly does.”

(The way the Jedi looks at him reminds Poe of the reaction he got whenever he asked his parents a question that they didn’t want to answer. Like there’s a whole big topic there that they just don’t want to breach.)

Luke Skywalker turns slowly away. “I’m not my sister.” He says quietly. “We are different people. But we have both had our share of failures. And unfortunately, you will bear the brunt of them. I cannot undo it now, and honestly I am doubtful of whether I ever could have. This is something you will have to live with for the rest of your life.”

“What?” Poe asks, leaning forward. The answers - the real ones which are made of more than itchy feelings in his chest and hints left by spoiled bedsheets - are dangling just out of reach; can he make out their shapes? Their form? Or is it more shadows and tricks? “What is it?”

“In another life, something wonderful.”

But instead of continuing the old omega starts to get to his feet.

Poe opens his mouth - disbelief, horror, fear, these things all flood him - only Luke Skywalker doesn’t leave him hanging again. He looks at him with a measured gaze which curls fingers into Poe’s very soul and says, “Come walk with me.”

...

Leaving that small, white hospital room feels like stepping back into his own shoes again.

As Poe walks out onto a faraway hallway that he _knows_ , a sense of comfort, intangible in all its steadiness and warmth, flows back to him, and even though he’s still worn and aggravated in a way that truly rankles, Poe feels okay. Like even if everything does get worse, he feels like he will survive it. 

The door slides shut behind him and Poe draws a line between him and the darkness. He has no intentions of revisiting that sterile hell anytime soon. 

Luke Skywalker allows him the moment, does not speak or do anything while Poe’s world reasserts itself. 

“Ready?” He asks quietly, and when Poe nods he turns without noise, starts slowly walking in the direction of the exit. 

Poe, loyal to the end, follows after. 

They don’t talk. 

Poe wants to, badly, but the way the old man walks keeps the words buried in his throat. Inch by inch, each step looks like a massive effort and maybe his age has caught up to him but Luke Skywalker looks weakened even as that cataclysmic presence radiates like starlight -  opposites, wrong and right pulled together into the same space and somehow existing despite each other, Luke Skywalker walks like a man who does not have nearly enough strength but for whom the option of standing still is far worse than the struggle to keep moving. 

In the face of all this, Poe holds his tongue, even as a multitude of questions burn holes in his mouth.

They move slowly out of the Med Bay. They pass people, several doctors and a number of droids, but no one speaks to them. 

Poe is still wearing basic whites. He should have people stopping him and asking him why he’s out of bed, but no one has. Their eyes all move past him without seeing, fixed ahead on something else. 

No one reacts to Luke Skywalker either, and Poe glances at him. He suspects that this is his influence at play. It is as scary as it is impressive. Dangerous is the man who can make the whole world blind. 

They leave Med Bay and enter into the outer circuits, which spread away from the busy epicentre of the Resistance base. These corridors are long and winding and there are quicker ways to the outside but clearly the old omega doesn’t want to linger with the crowds. There is sweat on his brow now and Poe doesn’t know whether it’s the strain from using Jedi mind tricks or simply from moving at all but he offers the old man an arm regardless, smiling reassuringly.

But Luke Skywalker looks at him with so much sorrow that Poe drops his arm immediately. 

The mood turns from tense to painful. Only stepping out into the light of an overcast day is enough to break it. 

He feels the cool breeze on his skin. He takes in a lungful of fresh, clean air and relaxes. Can almost imagine that he’s wearing his flight uniform again.

Beside him he hears Luke Skywalker do the same, only the man starts coughing, whole body shuddering under the weight of his brown cloak. 

“Are you-” The Jedi holds up a hand, polite but firm. 

Poe would help but he knows now that the other omega doesn’t want him to, so he stands there with one hand reached out towards him, biting his lip as his fingers slowly curl inwards, watching closely for any signs of the coughing fit escalating into something potentially life-threatening (this an old legend, after all). 

Thankfully Luke Skywalker soon recovers. 

“I am not as young as I once was.” Is all he offers Poe, sounding somewhat ashamed, before moving slowly towards the trees. 

Poe stares after him, casting the base behind him one last look before he follows a respectful few feet behind.

Luke Skywalker walks seemingly without direction but with a certainty that would be reassuring were it not for how miserable the man looked. They travel further into the woods until the Resistance base is hidden by leaves and branches and the illusion that they are alone suddenly has a lot more power. 

And then, in a clearing which has the sky big and beautiful up above them, they stop. 

And again, Poe waits in a silence that he’s very quickly getting sick of.

“So,” Poe starts, gaze fixated on the Jedi’s unmoving back. “Shall I just start explaining everything that’s going on? I can, it’s just that I feel like you know more, but by all means, let me start from the beginning.”

“How much do you know, about the old Jedi Order?” Luke Skywalker asks.

Poe frowns.

“... Not a lot.” He answers. “The old order fell. Darth Vader and the Sith destroyed it from within.”

There’s no visible reaction at that name. Only a patient, “But how did they do it?”

“I don’t know the specifics.” Poe says guardedly. He still hasn’t figured out why they’re in a wooded clearing and doesn’t quite feel like he can relax until he has. “Why did you take me here? Couldn’t we have had this conversation back at the base?”

Luke Skywalker’s silence is as patronising as it is persistent. Poe grits his teeth, curses all that is unfair and says, “They used Darth Vader. The Sith used your father. Your father brought down the Order.”

Poe almost instantly regrets it - the sharp words, the sharper tone (this dagger is new and unfamiliar to him, when did he pick it up?) “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- ”

“Don’t apologise. You’re right.”

Finally Luke Skywalker turns to face him. He stands with his arms folded and a deeply solemn expression on his face. 

“You’re right.” He repeats. “My father brought down the Jedi Order and did considerable harm to many others before he returned to the Light. This a fact of life that I’ve long grown accustomed to, don’t think that you can still wound me with it because you cannot. In this, I am free.”

His gaze is unrelenting but Poe meets it. 

“My question to you, is why did my father ever fall in the first place?”

And Poe has no answer. “I-” He searches his memory for all the stories about the lost Jedi Knights, their struggle between good and evil, the marvels they performed, their quests and their victories, all the people they saved. “I don’t know. He wanted power?”

“He had power. He was the best of his generation and the strongest the Jedi Order had ever seen.” Luke Skywalker pauses. “… It was prophesied that someone would be born who could bring balance to the Force. The Jedi Council believed my father to be that person. But... there was a problem. My father was human, and an alpha.” Those blue eyes darken. “The Jedi Council did not like their Jedi to be alphas. Too much rage, too much aggression, not enough discipline, or so they all thought. They were not especially fond of omegas either, their preference was for betas and everything else was just to be tolerated. But alphas, they caused the most unrest.”

The old omega falls into a stewy silence. In that moment, he is the mirror image of his sister.

The icy discontent burns into nothing. Luke Skywalker is smooth again.  “They feared that my father would be easily seduced by the Dark Side. And that fear proved to be their undoing. They tried to make him powerless so that he couldn’t hurt them but in the end all they did was make him more vulnerable. He fell because he was afraid of losing my mother and my teacher, because he didn’t think that he was strong enough to save them…. My father, when he loved, he loved fiercely.”

Although the Jedi does not move or talk or cry or even blink, his scent is saturated with pain. In the windy clearing it whirls everywhere, brushing across Poe’s eyelids and splintering somewhere deep inside his chest. It _hurts_ , and Poe realises all of a sudden that this is the omega side finally coming to the surface; this is one of the first things he learned how to do - feel, and _reach_.

Poe looks at his elder, his superior in every sense of the word, and feels his heart break. 

“I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I’m sorry for what happened with your family.”

Luke Skywalker bows his head. “I meant what I said. It’s not my father’s mistakes that follow me now. It’s my own. I tried to do what the Jedi Council did not, I tried to embrace a young alpha student like he was any other. But in all my foolishness, I miscalculated. I failed.”

Ah. “The alpha student, that was Kylo Ren.”

“Yes.”

Poe nods. He’d had his suspicions. He looks away into the forest and considers his reply. “I’d still say that your father was responsible for his own actions. You can’t blame everything you do on a bad upbringing, Kylo Ren is a bastard by his own hand. You don’t need to say sorry for that, just help us beat the First Order and make everything safe again. We need your help, you could make a difference-”

“You don’t understand.” Luke Skywalker says, hard-eyed. “I ruined you.”

“... What?” Poe says. “How could you ruin me? You don’t know me.”

“I pushed a young boy into becoming Kylo Ren. I ruined him, and in turn, I ruined you.” 

“…I don’t understand.” Poe says, narrowing his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something else, only - 

_Oh no._

“But that’s- ” 

_Impossible?_

The words die in his throat.

An expression of all-consuming regret falls upon Luke Skywalker. 

“I didn’t expect you, you know,” He says quietly. “I thought there was the smallest chance that this could happen with the next generation but… I thought it ceased to be important a long time ago. I never experienced a pull myself, so, I did not know what to look for, and what I saw, I thought I understood.” A sigh. “My arrogance, my optimism, they damned us all. And now I catch myself wondering if the old order was wrong to not want alphas within their ranks. Just look at all the chaos they can wreck simply by existing.”

The earth is wet. Grass pokes its way through, bright green strands, life in all its everyday glory. 

Green and safe. 

“Is it a Jedi power?” Poe asks through gritted teeth. He can't look up just yet. “It doesn’t work this way. So did he do this?”

“Not in the way you think. This is just what a very select few Force-sensitive humans have, a connection to someone else, a connection which ignores all logic and reason, a connection that many envied. It was a closely guarded Jedi secret because of the weaknesses it exposed, and then it was a lost secret. All I know is that some people... just fit together, as if they’ve been made with the other in mind. The Force knows it, so I know it." Luke Skywalker shakes his head. "Kylo Ren had as much choice in this as you did... although you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that he will be far worse off.”

Poe can’t help but laugh. “Somehow I doubt that.” He rubs at his arms, suddenly feeling the chill. “He’s not the one who can’t sleep because he’s afraid he might get strangled.”

“Listen to me, Poe - Kylo Ren knows nothing but fear.” Luke Skywalker says. Poe looks up - the sharpness in the old man’s tone commands it. “He is powerful, yes, extremely, but he is also afraid. You scare him more than you can possibly imagine.” 

If this is an attempt to make Poe feel better, it fails miserably. 

“I know he’s scared. That’s what worries me.” Poe folds his arms, bitter and tired and so fucking unwilling for any of this. He fixes his gaze on a random patch of bark and keeps it there.

“… When he tortured me,” He starts, voice steady. “It was the worst thing that I’d ever experienced. But he was in control the whole time and he never went further than was necessary. He sure as hell didn’t seem personally affected by anything then and I was right there in front of him! But now - he’s gone crazy, he’s unhinged, it’s like dealing with a live bomb.” Poe unfolds his arms and gestures helplessly at himself. “Look, I’m good, Luke - Skywalker - sir - I’m good with people! But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this! I can’t help anyone. All I am right now is a goddamn _liability_.” 

Like a dam breaking, every stifled feeling of stomach-sinking hopelessness hits Poe in a massive wave and he swears, loudly and profusely as he looks at his lot in life and knows without a shadow of a doubt that there is no way out this time.

It’s not the first time Poe’s been in a similar position but he’s never been so utterly and incredibly out of options before. He always had his X-wing or a primed blaster inches away or a whole load of friends to call on for help, he always had a trick or two up his sleeve he could whip out and do his damnedest to pull off. There was always one last gamble to be had with fate. But… if he’s got this right … the stage has been set for him. For them both. They’re done now. Poe never even saw the key being thrown away.

(But isn’t that a lie too? Poe’s always been too smart for his own good. It’s not like there weren’t signs.)

“You’re right again.” Luke Skywalker says.

His words barely reach Poe. “What?”

“You are a liability. You’re very skilled and you’re very loyal but your unique position provides something of a problem for the Resistance. I don’t know what my sister is going to do with you but your life is not going to be the same. It cannot.”

Poe reflexively takes a step back. He knew, he _always_  knewthis was going to happen but in that instant Poe realises just how much it will hurt him to walk away from his cause and every toxic thing he swallowed down and tried to forget about suddenly bubbles up from behind his lips and spills out into the pretty wooded clearing like the worst kind of vomit.

“He didn't knot me.” He says hoarsely, staring at the Jedi, begging him to see that he wasn’t lying. “He didn't bite me either. You have to do that for a bond to really take - but nothing happened! I promise! I was just trying to give BB-8 as long as I could, I just—”

_Wanted to hurt him back... because some part of me knew I could..._

“- didn’t want him in my head anymore! I didn’t have any other options. It was just me in there.”

Him and Finn as it would later turn out, but while Poe’s never bothered with beating himself up for not somehow knowing that he had a rescue coming he suddenly wants to now because he didn’t realise what blank cheque he was signing when he smiled with blood in his teeth and said _you think you’re so strong, don’t you?_

“… I… I didn’t want this.” Poe whispers.

_I didn’t ask for this._

Only now Poe thinks, that he sort of did. His father always said he was too reckless for his own good, that luck and skill wouldn’t always save his skin and now the universe has finally decided to screw him back, with an honest to god _fucking Force bond._

“I... _fuck_...”

The lightest touch on his shoulder. 

Luke Skywalker, moving so slowly as to give Poe a chance to back out if needed, cautiously begins to pull him closer, and when Poe doesn’t budge an inch he doesn’t push, only sighs softly and places his hands on either side of Poe’s head.

He kisses Poe on the forehead just as the tears start to fall. It’s a gentle kiss, albeit one given with a large degree of awkwardness, as if the other omega is unsure of how these sort of things usually work. 

“I’m so sorry, Poe Dameron.”

Poe’s vaguely aware that he should be freaking out right now because this is _Luke Skywalker_ holding him close but for the life of him and for the life of the little boy who spent his summer days pretending that every discovered stick was a lightsaber lit with blue, Poe can only cry. Because in this moment Luke Skywalker is just a human, and he cannot save him. 

(Because if there is one thing that everybody knows, it’s that alphas mate for life.)

“I will help you, I will help you in every way that I can,” Luke Skywalker murmurs, as Poe covers his face with his hands and can barely breathe. “I can help you resist, I can help you run, I can help you hide. Whatever you choose, I will help you with it. I owe you this. All is not lost yet.”

The Jedi’s fingers move to Poe’s neck.

Poe’s sobs freeze. Silenced. 

Slowly, Poe lowers his hands. Stares in disbelief at the man standing in front of him.

_You don’t touch there._

Luke Skywalker meets his gaze without a single shred of embarrassment. 

“All is not lost yet.” He repeats, deadly serious. “He didn’t bite you. It’s not complete yet.”

Poe, lost, adrift and close to drowning, struggles to get his head around the old man’s words. 

“… What does that mean?” He asks slowly.

“It means,” Luke Skywalker says levelly, “That if you stay out of his way, you could survive for a long time. But make no mistake…” 

His fingers dig into Poe’s shoulders.

The old man was beaten and broken only moments earlier but that has all been washed away. Luke Skywalker looks every inch the Jedi Master when he looks Poe right in the eye and says, voice dark with warning, “If you wander off, if you take your ship and try to blow up another First Order weapon, if Kylo Ren finds you and manages to catch you again - no one will be able to save you. So be extremely careful, Poe Dameron, because he will not let you go a second time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdfdsfjkdsfjhkdsjkhdsfjhkd I want to write an intelligent and thoughtful authors note here but I honestly feel a bit too crappy for that so I'm just going to say:
> 
> a) you guys are great. you're all lovely. i love you. thank you so much.
> 
> b) part of the reason this chapter took forever is because it involves two things that i am not great at. Next chapter will be back to the usual format but i hope this wasn't too terrible. (i write one chapter which doesn't have Rey or Finn in it and I already feel deprived wow)
> 
> c) you guys are really great. seriously, i have zero confidence with writing, but you're all so freaking nice. expect a name and shame authors note on the next one. (i see u fanart artists, you're all so gifted and i'm not gonna let u get away with it without getting embarrassed by yours truly like I'm your super enthusiastic mother on sports day)
> 
> d) I DID SOMETHING TODAY! Unfortunately it was when I should be sleeping but you know, I'm just going to take it. Go me. It's something. :)
> 
> follow me on tumblr at wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece for a front show seat to absolutely nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have finally given in and added the Slow Burn tag to this story. Now hitting head against the wall. (it hurts but I love it)

Poe had given quite a lot of thought to relationships.

As a child he had watched his parents laugh and bicker and support one another unconditionally. He’d grown up in their warm embrace, got bigger and stronger and all the while known that he was dearly loved in a way that could move whole star systems. Poe had decided that one day, he wanted that too. He wanted someone for him, and maybe kids, if that was on the cards (but you never knew with things like that.) He didn’t want to end up alone.

And Poe never was, really. Say what you like about the universe but there were a lot of good people in it. He’d been lucky enough to fall in love with a few of them but he could never take the final step, could never make it solid in a way that marked a point of no return.

Two things stopped him.

One, Poe was a pilot. Insane risks and split-second judgement calls were his everyday. His destiny in all likelihood was to end up scattered between the stars, gone in the blink of an eye, which was an extraordinarily cruel thing to wish upon someone who loved him. (Poe still remembered the way his father had fallen down and wailed.) Joining the Resistance only compounded this problem, and as Poe had flown out with a new crest on his uniform he’d bid a quiet goodbye to the future where he grew old and passed away peacefully.

Two (and this sounded a lot less noble but was undeniably just as hard to ignore) was that no one had been the right one. Poe went with alphas and with betas and with omegas but never felt strongly enough to let any one of them put their teeth to him. The sex was great and their companionship had been gritty and wonderful but it had never been enough for Poe, who grew up under a perfect pair and knew that there was something more to be found, something else out there just waiting to say hello. He didn’t want to take his shot and have it all be for nothing, not with this.

He knew early on that he was one of those hopeless romantics. He was no fool, but he loved a sweet story more than anybody else could stand.

Which perhaps, Poe reflected, is why this hurt so much.

 

* * *

 

Luke Skywalker’s warning stays with him.

It follows Poe when he paces around the clearing in a horrified daze.

It follows Poe when he finds himself wandering further into the woods.

When he falls against a tree and bites his fist it’s there, hanging over his head like the sword of damocles, pointing down at his neck. There’s no space to be had from it.

Which is good, because it helps Poe think.

 

* * *

 

“I need more information,” Poe says, striding up to Luke Skywalker who does not appear to have moved an inch in all the time Poe has been gone. “You need to tell me everything you know, how it differs from a typical alpha-omega relationship and how I stop it from getting any worse. Look, I’m not going to run away and spend the rest of my life hiding. I can't do it. I’m going to keep fighting the First Order until we bring those bastards down for good and I don’t care if it kills me.”

And then with that said he steps back, arms at his side, and lets the dust settle.

Luke Skywalker looks agonised by his declaration. He stares at Poe, utterly speechless and frowning something fierce. (One thing he does not look is surprised, but before he wore Jedi robes he wore fighter orange and if there was ever a person to truly know what it meant to give yourself completely for a cause like Poe has, he’d hope that Luke Skywalker was them.)

Poe doesn’t explain himself further. He still feels like someone is dangling him over a cliff but he’s also made up his mind, so he stands firm even as his nails press sharp indents into the flesh of his palms because there’s no where else to go but forward.

Kylo Ren will just have to become another thing he has to deal with - for better or for worse. That's all there is now. 

“… There are darker things to fear than death, you know,” Luke Skywalker says eventually.

“I know,” Poe says, a grim feeling rocking his stomach. “But I still choose this. I won’t run.”

Luke Skywalker’s expression grows mutinous.

“You will regret not going when you had the chance.” He warns.

“Not as much as I’d regret running away.” Poe replies.

Luke Skywalker continues to search his face for a long moment after; Poe gets the sense that the man was desperately looking for any hint of doubt to latch upon and beat into a steady flame. 

Poe lets him look, because he won’t find a thing.

Finally the old Jedi gives in, crumpling like a dry leaf.

“I said I would help you,” He concedes. “What is it you need to know?”

“Everything,” Poe says, and then because it’s been bugging him, “Why did you take me all the way into the forest?”

“I was unsure of how you would react and did not think you would appreciate an audience,” the old omega’s eyes move to somewhere over Poe’s shoulder. “But, I had hoped that you would leave. A ship is preparing for launch a few hours walk from here. If you had chosen to go I would have put you on it and that way, ensured your safe departure.”

Poe turns and looks through the woods for this mysterious ship, knowing logically that there was no way he’d be able to catch a glimpse but for some reason feeling compelled to try anyway. 

“If you’re not going to go,” Luke Skywalker says, drawing Poe’s attention back. “Then I’d ask that we return indoors. I am growing tired and do not want to be outside when the rain comes.”

Poe wonders if it pains the old Jedi to admit that. (If General Organa’s mutterings of her ‘whiny, baby brother’ were based in truth then it probably did not.) “Of course,” He waits until it becomes obvious that Luke Skywalker is waiting for him to go first and then he moves, pausing at Skywalker’s side to again offer the old man an arm. “The ground is very uneven here,” He says gently, when he’s stared at with poorly veiled reproach. “I really don’t want you to slip, sir, not before we’ve finished our conversation at least.”

Luke Skywalker holds out for a few seconds longer before he reluctantly accepts Poe’s arm. His weight is an awkward thing to balance.

Slowly, they start to make their way back.

“I know alphas,” Poe says into the quiet. “Never had any trouble with them. They were usually nice people. But Kylo Ren, and Rey too actually, they don’t act the way I expect.”

“Don’t expect them to,” Luke Skywalker says, his head bowed and his face hidden by his long hair. “They’re not normal alphas. The stronger they are, the easier it will be for them to lose control.”

Poe thinks about Finn lying still and quiet in Med Bay. “Good to know.”

“If I were you,” Luke Skywalker continues, a note of irritation seeping into his voice like ink upon rare paper. “I would forget everything you know about that dynamic and just follow your instincts. You cannot feel the Force so you must rely on them to guide you through this. They make for poor eyes but they are eyes none the less.”

Poe makes a face at that. “I think my instincts helped get me into this mess.” He says honestly.

“… Perhaps.” The old man says, and that single word sends a cold pulse down Poe’s chest.

That barked order, delivered with so much power, _no matter what you feel_ , an order laced with so much urgency which Poe later disregarded as easily as he ditched bad intel.

“You tried to break it before…” He says, more to himself than to the other omega. “But I - ”

 _I reached. And I shouldn’t have._ But resisting the urge had been impossible when Kylo had stared like that, seconds away from falling apart and with blood spilling down his face in rivets but his eyes looking so _reverent_ , full of promise and full of darkness in equal measure, staring even as his whole body was breaking, jagged edges ceasing to bristle as the world tore itself to shreds.

Kylo had looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered. In that fragile moment, the anger and the fear had gone away.

And Poe had wanted.

Something.

“You fool yourself into thinking you had a choice with this.” Luke Skywalker interrupts his troubled thoughts. “Appealing to him was a way of ensuring your survival. It’s an old trick of ours.” Strangely, he leans in as if they’re friends sharing secrets but pulls back very quickly. The lingering traces of omega vanish. “A part of you knows you are compatible - now _that_ , that pull, that is the danger that comes with following your instincts. But without the Force I do not know how else you would navigate this dilemma. At the very least, your instincts do not want you dead.”

A small comfort considering what was at stake, but Poe would still take it.

“If following my gut is just going to lead me into more trouble then I’m not going to follow my gut.” Learning to disregard the instinct to duck and run wouldn’t be easy but Poe thought he could manage it. Everything could be helped with a bit of practice. “If this is a Force mess, then how about we use the Force to fix it? Rey helped before and she’s new to everything. Surely you could do more?”

Poe still doesn’t know what Luke Skywalker’s exact plan had been when he’d tore through Poe’s aching mind before… only that it had failed. Because of Poe. But despite all the man’s foreboding comments and heavy way of talking Poe knew Luke Skywalker could still help him in some capacity. He was still a Jedi Master, and a legendary one at that. And that counted for something. It had to.

The Jedi Master suddenly rips his arm away.

“You’re an idiot.” Luke Skywalker snaps, eyes shining with fury; vindicated when Poe flinches.“You cannot fight this. You should go while you still have the strength. There’s no point in lingering here!”

Poe immediately fell back when the omega first snapped. Now he stands with his hands thrown out wide, instinctively working a pacifying hum into every inch of his body even as his whole mind screams in confusion.

He hadn’t sensed the rage building…

“What?” He says, disbelieving and more than a little afraid.

“Do not stay here!” Luke Skywalker says again. “You know what is at risk, so do not risk it!”

He’s angry and on his aged features that anger is terrifying but as they stand there it begins to colour with desperation, and as the old man pants, clearly tiring now, Poe starts to detect something underneath that desperation - and further speculation finds a sharp, sad, layer of grief.

Poe watches him for a long moment, then slowly lowers his hands.

Luke Skywalker is hit with self-loathing, and then he turns away and sweeps himself up in his robes, shrinking into the protection they offer until it becomes difficult to make out his expression.

It starts to rain.

“Please,” There is no red-hot fire anymore. Only the weary voice of a kind man who has seen too much. “Please, do not let my mistake damn you forever. You can still go. There is nothing for you here.”

Luke Skywalker is pleading with him, Poe realises. The man who saved the galaxy all those years ago sounds like he is moments away from falling to his knees and begging Poe to go.

“Please. That ship will be there till nightfall. You can still go. You can find another life.”

He says it with so much hope, though, like this other life would be worth it.

“Please, Poe. You know you cannot possibly win against him.”

Luke Skywalker extends a shaky hand into the woods. (Under the grey sky it does not glimmer.)

“Get as far away from here as you can, and do not come back.”

For a second, Poe actually considers it. He thinks. He thinks long and hard. And really weighs up the cost of freedom.

But the path Poe started upon long ago was never one his conscience would allow him to just abandon like it was nothing. If he ran he might be free, if only in his mind, but the illusion of freedom was a concept that Poe detested with every fragment of his being and he would not let the universe embrace it like it was the real thing, he would not roll over and let the First Order get their way, not for anything.

He is not the same as Luke Skywalker. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.” Poe says.

A multitude of emotions cross the old man’s face. He lowers his arm and much like a vast tree falling the impact of it devastates the air and staggers them both.

Luke Skywalker nods. “As you wish.”

He leaves, heading back to base, and Poe stands in the woods until he’s soaked.

 

* * *

 

 

Alarms greet Poe upon his return.

He knows instinctively that the crisis is happening somewhere else. There’s no rush of wounded and he can only see ships preparing to take off. A clear sky at this stage means that the base wasn’t being attacked. Most likely problem - someone needs help, and the fleet was flying out to deliver it.

Since Poe’s grounded he doesn’t try go near his X-wing (with there being so few working ships left in the fleet there’ll be probably be another pilot assigned to it) and he lingers, raw and unfocused on the sidelines, mind a blur until he decides to head back to his quarters.

He can’t quite shake the guilt, aware that he should go to the General directly, but Poe wants a shower and he wants his own clothes and he can recognise that the psychological benefits of both were worth the delay. So he heads back to his quarters, doing his best to avoid any medical personnel.

His escape isn’t a clean one. Poe manages to run into the entire Blue Squadron when they all come round the corner in their flight uniforms, either just returning from a mission or on their way to one. (And judging by the scent of soap in the air, it’s the latter.)

“Poe!” Pava shouts, a relieved smile breaking out when she spots him. She runs up to him, closely followed by the rest of her squad. “We thought you were sick!”

“Kind of.” Poe replies. “What’s going on? What’s the heat?”

Snap jumps in before Pava can. “Skirmish with a First Order raid nearby. Starkiller must of done more damage to their resources than we thought.” He explains.

Unlike the others the alpha has immediately picked up on Poe’s stress, having known Poe for so long that he could see through his efforts to hide it. But thankfully because Snap is great he doesn’t draw attention to it, although he does give Poe a pointed glance, clearly wondering what had put Poe in this state and why Poe wasn’t taking better care of himself like a seasoned veteran would.

“Red Squadron took care of the initial attack but we’re going to clear out the stragglers. Shouldn’t be too bad, Red did good work.” Pava finishes.

“I don’t doubt it.” Poe says lightly.

Ordinarily Poe would have lead such a response and the question of why he didn’t even know of it hangs uncomfortably in the air, the other pilots aware that it wasn’t their place to ask but evidently worried all the same. It puts Poe in a difficult position because even he doesn’t know whether or not he still has any sort of authority. The fact that Blue Squadron were pleased to see him only tells him that the exact reason for his incarceration remained a mystery to the vast majority of people.

Having no possible way to address it casually, he adds it to his mental list of ‘things to figure out later’, hoping that this was one item he'd actually be able to tick off.

Poe clasps Snap’s shoulder. “Make sure you guys stay sharp up there. We can’t afford to grow lax just because we dealt them a heavy blow, they’re still dangerous.”

He studies them, his brave and brilliant squad-mates, and something warm blooms in his chest.

“I’m expecting everyone back in time for drinks, okay?” Poe winks. “I might even rustle up some of the good stuff, if you’re lucky.”

“You and your magical ways,” Snap says, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. "I'll hold you to that, Commander.”

“Good luck, Snap. That goes for everyone.” He nods to the rest of them.

The Resistance, while strong and disciplined in its own way did lack the rigid formalities of the First Republic, so Poe’s surprised when they take the time to give him a formal salute - a gesture rarely seen outside of ceremonies - and as each pilot passes they each give him a hurried but affectionate slap on the arm.

For a second Poe worries that the past few days have made him lose his edge, that his face was now an open book to all who saw him. But he quickly dismisses the idea - these are his friends. They’ll always know when he needs a hug.

“Look after each other out there!” Poe shouts after them.

His joviality fades as he watches them jog away, counting each retreating back and checking off a list which had grown considerably smaller following their success at Starkiller.

Poe stares until they vanish from sight. 

 

* * *

 

When he approaches his quarters there is a familiar noise of outrage from behind him and BB-8 whirls into view.

Poe almost wants to cry when he lays eyes on the comforting spread of white and orange, and does end up shedding a tear when BB-8 rolls onto his foot in what he thinks is an accident (but the way the droid does it suggests that it may very well have been on purpose.)

/Master Poe! Should be in bed! Should be in bed! Not in bed - should be in bed? Not sure - go for help? Happy to see you! SHOULD BE IN BED! VERY SICK!/

“Hey, calm down, buddy.” Poe says with a chuckle, falling into a crouch so he’s on BB-8’s level. “I’m doing a lot better now - still got problems but I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

/Good news! Everyone was worried about Master Poe - BB-8 did not have answers to give them either./

“I saw,” Poe says, running a finger over a smudge on BB-8’s side. “What have you been up to? How did you get so dirty?”

/Master Poe asked BB-8 to watch Friend Finn when Master Poe could not. Friend Finn has been very busy./

Poe suddenly remembers the request he made the day after Finn had been brought back, when no one had any clue what was going on and injured pilots had to stay on-call just in case. “Thanks, BB-8. I’m sure you did a great job. Where is Finn? And where’s Rey?”

He’s not sure why their absence bothers him so much. Part of it is the well-justified worry that they’re out doing something dangerous and crazy but maybe it’s also because in recent weeks they have become his only confidants, the only ones who come close to understanding everything. He would like to see them.

/Friend Finn has been helping General Organa with the recent First Order raids. He is currently in the Operations room. Friend Rey was with him, but has gone elsewhere. BB-8 does not know her exact location./

Rey probably went when Skywalker did, Poe guesses, idly rubbing dirt off BB-8. She clearly had a connection to the old man, had proved that in the hangar bay when she first sensed his arrival. For a split-second he wonders what they’re doing and what Luke Skywalker has said to her, until BB-8 grows agitated with his silence and Poe is forced to stand up and beckon the droid into his room with him.

“Okay, plan is; I’m going to have a shower and then we’re going to find the General and hopefully Finn too. Sound good?”

/PLAN IS GOOD!/ BB-8 confirms, bouncing excitedly, and Poe doesn't have the heart to ask the droid to stay out of the shower this time.  
  


* * *

 

 

Poe made the right call. The few minutes he spends under hot water tie him together better than a hundred days of rest ever could and when he slips out his quarters his mood has been made anew. (His hands still tremble when he straightens the cuffs of his shirt, but that’s to be expected.)

Beside him BB-8 is loud in it’s pleasure at the current turn of events and it provides a soothing backdrop for the long walk to Operations, allowing Poe to consider his approach to what can only be one of the most awkward conversations he will ever have in his life.

He can only assume that the General knows the entirety of what’s going on and as ashamed as he feels about it he recognises that it’s a benefit for him, means they don't have to awkwardly discuss the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ and can move on to the ‘what next’s. At the very least Poe can find out whether he’s still Commander of the Fleet or not.

If General Organa had been planning on stripping him of his title the optimum time to do so would have been when he was unconscious, as most people would have assumed it was health-related and not something more sinister in nature. It gives Poe the tiniest bit of hope although he is reluctant to put any trust in it, doesn’t think he can handle another unexpected set-back on this terrible day.

/Nice to see you back, Commander!/ A maintenance droid calls out and Poe smiles back, but only briefly.

He never put a lot of stock into the titles he was awarded when he served the First Republic. Initially he was proud of them because they took a lot of work to earn and they enabled him to go places he thought were far out of reach, but at the end of the day they were just coloured stripes on his arm - the First Republic’s refusal to combat the First Order threat forever damned them as such.

But Poe Dameron, Resistance Commander - Poe Dameron, _Black_ _Leader_ \- that filled his heart with something a lot more resilient than pride. Losing it would hurt. The fact that he saw it coming a mile off wouldn’t change that, but it did make the nagging shred of hope stuck to his sides all the more torturous to bear.

“Commander Dameron?” A voice says questioningly, and Poe blinks out of his reverie.

“Tabala Zo,” He greets the officer with a nod. “Nice to see you. I heard we had a First Order problem that needed solving.”

Tabala nods, although she still looked a little baffled by his sudden appearance. “Approximately 26 hours ago we received news of a First Order raid on Tanu, a peaceful planet mostly dedicated to agriculture. Reconnaissance reported a much smaller raid than we anticipated so we sent Red Squadron to defend against the initial wave, which they did successfully, and Blue Squadron left minutes earlier to take their place and do a final sweep of the area.”

Tabala pauses to take a deep breath.

“All in all,” She says, sounding hesitantly pleased. “We did well. The threat has been neutralised. Now it’s just figuring out what their exact goals were when they went after Tanu. Food resources aside, it’s not an obvious source of wealth. It's in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, you do need food to feed an army,” Poe says, looking down the hall. “What about casualties? How did we fare on that front?”

The beta crumples at his question. “One. From Red Squadron. Trel Carena.”

Trel Carena. Resistance pilot for six years and mentor to many a new recruit.

Mother to four.

Poe curses.

“It was an unlucky shot, Commander,” Tabala says, closing her eyes. She’d joined the same time Trel had. “She wasn’t abandoned up there, it was just an unlucky shot. They were gunning for her. Nothing could have been done.”

Poe bites back _we don’t know that, I could have done something,_  and reaches forward to clasp Tabala’s shoulder.

They share a quiet moment of grief, and then Tabula straightens up. “I need to get back.” She explains, her voice steady, and when Poe nods she turns and heads towards the stairs.

BB-8 makes a sad noise, swivelling round to look at Poe.

/Trel Carena was a lovely human. BB-8 will miss her./

“I know.” Poe says tiredly.

Trel’s death puts a sharp stop to his growing alarm. When Poe walks into the thrum of different voices that made up Operations his apprehension has mostly disappeared, replaced with a cool readiness for whatever pill the General would have him swallow.

No one has time to take notice of him. Poe moves almost silently to the centre, no real plan other than to finally do what he should have done after that first bad night - except the crowd suddenly parts and Poe catches glimpse of the person currently holding court with several of General Organa’s closest advisors, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Trust BB-8 to oversimplify matters.

“That’s a little more than helping,” He chides out of the corner of his mouth, and BB-8 recoils as if to say, ‘who me?’

Poe's not impressed. He shakes his head, resigns himself to be eternally confused about his droid’s peculiar bit of bias. “You like Finn, remember?” He says pointedly before moving on.

Finn had come a long way from the panicked stormtrooper who broke Poe out of his cell. He stands at the head of a tight circle, addressing the group with a tone that brooks no doubt and using his hands to help him illustrate his points, all the while tracking the progress of ships on the monitors with narrowed eyes, looking every inch a leader.

He pauses to ask Admiral Statura a question about Tanu’s list of allies and after listening to the response, taps the monitor to show him a wider view of Tanu’s section of the galaxy.

Finn points at the revolving set of suns and planets. “See, the First Order always went after worlds which could bring whole sets of systems with them so if they went after Tanu it had to be because it was a massive strategic hold for someone else. Something which looks small but could bring the entire system down if it was targeted.”

“Tanu does provide food for most of Hera’s military outposts.” Admiral Statura volunteers.

“And Hera maintains control of its territory with an alliance with the only other significant power in this system - Nabeen-9.” General Organa adds. She’s standing at Finn’s side and hasn’t noticed Poe yet, too busy connecting the dots. “Take out Tanu and you take out Hera and Nabeen-9, and the First Order gets a shot at the whole star system.”

“They were looking for a weak spot.” Finn concludes. He looks like he’s biting back triumph at having solved the mystery, aware that the danger was far from over but also unable to stifle his joy completely; it tugs at the corner of his mouth till a smile breaks out.

Poe is so caught up in watching that he doesn’t think to duck away when Finn starts glancing about the room. Their eyes meet and Finn’s gasp is somehow so loud that it silences all the other advisors.

For a moment Finn looks like he can’t believe his eyes and then he’s running over. Poe holds his arms out and Finn nearly lifts him off the ground with the full force of his hug.

“Poe!” Finn exclaims, his grip tight and secure. Even when he eventually pulls back to beam at Poe he doesn’t completely let go. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I heard good things and came to see the show.” Poe says, forever charmed by the younger man's tactile nature. “Wow, I went away for a few days and now you’re an Admiral, impressive jump!”

Finn makes a face at him. “I’m not an Admiral,” He says, rolling his eyes. “Just helping the General with some things, sitting around got boring fast. But what’s going on? You feeling better? You look better but you do usually look pretty good so I don’t know if this is normal or not-“

“I’m alright.” Poe says, putting his hands over Finn’s. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna worry, it got really weird for a while there.” Finn says. “But - awesome, I didn’t think I’d get to see you before you left!”

Poe cocks his head. “Left?” He repeats. "Why would you think I was leaving?" Unless -

General Organa had done a good job of fading into the background until now but when Poe looks over she loosens her grip on her influence - which in itself was a form of apology, because she rarely let the alpha side out in the tension-filled space that was Operations and only did so when she felt the need for the barest kind of honesty - and signals for the surrounding advisors to disperse, her tearful gaze never once leaving Poe’s face.

Finn glances at him, eyebrows raised high.

“Give me a minute.” Poe tells him, squeezing his arm once before letting go.

Poe approaches General Organa with care because in all the time he’s known her, he has never seen her look this way - not like glass left out in the storm, intact, but for only so long. 

She pulls together for him but it’s still just a cloak wrapped tighter around a fragile body. Far from the tenacious woman he knows and loves. Defeat isn't a good look on her.

“General.” He greets. “Can I have a word?”

 

* * *

 

“I told him you wouldn’t run.”

General Organa smiles. Sad, fond, rueful, all wrapped up into the smallest quirk of the lips.

Under the fading light of day, General Organa doesn’t look like the famed leader of the Resistance. Sitting on an overturned box, with her long coat folded in her lap and the breeze ruffling loose strands of hair from her bun, she reminds Poe of the old women from back home. The ones with families and regular jobs and no reason not to enjoy a quiet evening because all their concerns revolved around simple matters, that could always be forgotten for a few hours.

General Organa had always acted like her ability to make mistakes or feel pain made her a weaker person in her subordinates’ eyes. She was no spy and could never mask her feelings with any degree of success, so in return she never discussed them. Everyone knew when she was sad or when she was angry but no one ever knew why. General Organa was an open book written in a language that nobody could speak. 

Poe could count on one hand all the moments she had sat and talked openly with him. Every single one had left him humbled.

"You did?” Poe asks.

General Organa nods. “Luke said that he could convince you to go. I said that you’d rather die.” She shakes her head. “I’m honoured to know you, Poe, but I hate that I was right.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Poe ventures.

She grimaces at that. “I wouldn’t rob you of another choice. You want to stay, so you’ll stay.”

“I won’t stay if it puts people in danger.” Poe says. He doesn’t look away from the alpha but he’s aware of the faint chatter from the nearby ground crew, can feel the weight of their inquisitive stares every so often. “If you think I can do my duty without compromising the safety of others then I’ll keep fighting, but the moment I put other people in danger - I’ll stop, no argument.”

The General eyes him. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

Poe shrugs. “Well, I like to think that we know each other pretty well by this point.”

He cracks a smile, but she doesn’t return it.

The General sighs and leans forward. “Look,” She starts, loosely steepling her fingers together. “I know that you place a lot of value on my judgement. You don’t blindly follow orders but you trust me to make the right calls, and I am grateful for that. But,“ And she frowns. “… you can’t do that, anymore. You shouldn’t listen to what I think. Just concentrate on yourself now.”

“I am?” Poe says, unsure about everything except that. “I know the risks. I want to fight. I’ll do everything I can to stay in the fight. I just… I know I can’t do that if our enemy can pluck battle plans out my head while I’m asleep.”

“Force bonds don’t work like that.” The General sounds tired. “As long as you avoid getting captured and interrogated it doesn't matter how many secrets you know, they’ll stay under lock and key until you choose to give them.”  
  
Poe folds his arms. “You know how it works?”

An odd expression falls on General Organa’s face. She looks wistful and morose and every word that falls under grey and heavy, but underneath it all, something pure remains.

There is only one topic that would make the General look this way and Poe feels like an asshole for inadvertently stumbling across it. But he needs to know, so he holds his tongue, retracts nothing.

"When I was a young girl,” She starts, a still figure in the gentle light. “I met one of the most infuriating people I have ever come across in my entire life. He was a beta and when he wasn’t saying something idiotic he was doing something worse, but as much as he annoyed me and made me want to scream, I could never stop looking for him. I couldn’t forget about him. He was mine, before I understood what that meant.” She pauses, and Poe thinks she mutters ‘moron’ under her breath. “It was a strange time. I dreamt about him, argued with him in those dreams, it didn’t happen all the time but it used to drive me _crazy_. I thought I was going crazy. But the dreams went away when we took the relationship to blood, so I stopped thinking about them.”

The alpha closes her eyes. And the air smells of salt.

Poe stands on the threshold of comforting her but knows that she prefers her space. So he waits, lets it be just the two of them on the edge of an empty hangar bay, with the bitter scent of heart-break drifting on the wind.

The General’s fists tighten and loosen and tighten again, and she smiles mournfully. “He had those dreams too, I found later out, although Han never felt the Force in his life so he didn’t think too much about it. Everything was lessened for him. It was far from the torture that I endured, the pain of a denied bond. But our discovery was what pushed Luke to hunt down all the secrets of the Jedi and then I finally had an explanation for my pull towards Han.”

“But you and your beta stood apart for many years.” Poe says. “You resisted your pull. You didn’t let it control you.”

The look she shoots him is fully of pity. “I was never strong with the Force and I never developed what little aptitude I had and even then it was inevitable. Kylo Ren-” The General says his name oddly, like she’s balancing a hot stone in her mouth and wants it out before it burns her flesh beyond healing. “- Is incredibly powerful, and very susceptible to the Dark Side and all the urges that come with it. Don’t trust him for a second, Poe. He might succeed in resisting you, but if he cannot -“

The alpha doesn’t finish her sentence but she doesn’t need to. The space she leaves is full of dark things and Poe can see all of them.

He swallows, tugging at his shirt collar with itchy fingers.

“Do you think he’ll come find me?” He glances at the clear sky and then at the ground crew who were still waiting for Red Squadron’s triumphant return. “Will I lead him here?”

“The Force doesn’t work that way.” The General comments, following his gaze. “It’s not your personal navigational tool, otherwise this Luke business would have been sorted a long time ago.”

Poe suddenly realises. “Even if he doesn’t come for me, he’ll still come for your brother.” He looks around again. “Oh hell, we just became a much bigger target.”

General Organa halts his alarm with a shake of her head. “Luke’s presence here is a secret. Besides Rey, Finn and Chewie, you and I are the only people who know. I plan to keep it that way. The First Order might know that we’re here but they are in no position to launch an attack on us. By the time they are, we will have moved. I already have scouts looking.”

“But -“

“It’s being sorted.” She says firmly. “You need to start think about yourself now-”

“Kylo Ren knows Luke is here.” Poe says quickly.

The General falls back as if struck.

Her eyes narrow.

“…How?” She questions, a thread of warning in her voice.

Poe bites his lip. “I…I don’t know for sure, it’s just a hunch, but I’m pretty sure he felt it when your brother did whatever he did to my head, back when I first met him and I passed out.” Poe holds a hand out and struggles to say it, wishes he could snatch the words he needs out of the air. “… He really wasn’t happy about it.” A burst of weary laughter. The General watches him carefully. “I actually think he pulled me into his mind because he hated it that much. He always had power over the dream stuff, and I know he doesn’t want this, doesn’t want me, but I thinks he wants Luke in my head even less.”

And maybe it’s the effect of saying it out loud, but it all makes sense to Poe then.

He rounds on the General, horrified. “You were pushing for that. You knew Kylo Ren’s control would snap if you broke my mind apart. You always said mind-reading didn’t have to be a painful thing but you let Luke hurt me _deliberately_ because you knew it would make my goddamn alpha lose his shit!”

Poe spins, the energy of the realisation rocking him to the core.

“Why-“ He turns back to the General and rakes a hand through his hair. “… Why would you do that? How did that do anything to break this stupid connection? All it did was make it worse. What were you trying to achieve?”

He silently begs her not deny it, not to lie to him, and feels no relief when she does both.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Poe.” General Organa says gently, and Poe knows she means every word. “Luke told me it was necessary. He thought he might be able to unravel part of it since it hadn’t been completed yet. I agreed, and supervised the whole thing. He said there was a chance that Kylo Ren,” Again, the flash of burning behind her teeth. It’s not something Poe recognises, or trusts. “-could react badly to it, but that it was just a risk we had to take.”

 _We?_ Poe wants to press but he knows she’s not finished yet.

General Organa’s expression hardens; the old woman becomes the politician and the leader. “We wanted to help you, Poe, we wanted you to wake up and be able to go on with your life without ever having to know that this happened. That's why we did it.”

“You’d have done that?” Poe says. “You’d have, fixed this and never told me what it was?”

“Would you have wanted to know?” She says back, arching an eyebrow.

Poe thinks about it.

“… I think so…” He eventually replies. “Would have probably helped me in the future.”

Neither of them know what to say after that. The General averts her gaze after a minute (a powerful gesture coming from an alpha; Poe really doesn’t like what it implies) and picks at the material of her coat. Poe, meanwhile, looks up at the sound of approaching ships and discovers that Red Squadron still had very good timing.

The hangar grows noisy with movement and Poe, unable to stand with his hands clasped behind his back, goes and sits down next to the General.

Under different circumstances this whole thing would have been an honour.

“So what happens now?” He asks quietly. “I think he knows Luke is here, or at least where I am but even if he doesn’t… do we just continue as normal and hope that I don’t run into him? Because in all seriousness it’s a big universe. It’s not actually out of bounds.”

General Organa sighs. “I will deal with Luke, forget about him for now. It’s not your responsibility.” She waves away the matter with a brush of her fingers. Her expression grew more focused. “Is this really what you want to do? Keep fighting? Keep flying?”

Poe nods.

“Even if you do stay here, you might still dream with him. I can’t protect you from that.”

“Well,” Poe says. “The way I see it, I’ll have bad dreams no matter what. I’d rather be out helping people instead of hiding in a hut somewhere. But… you can’t leave me in any more rooms by myself, General, I don’t like it and if it isn’t necessary then it’s not going to happen.”

He shakes his head. He knows where the line is now.

“The dreams are doable, but the silence isn’t.”

The General's gaze is full of shame. While a little of it is appreciated it’s far too much for her mistake, and Poe feels uncomfortable being on the receiving end of it.

“As you wish.” She whispers, and is almost inaudible in the growing darkness.

A hundred yards away, the first pilot jumps out from their X-wing and throws off their helmet.

 

* * *

 

Before they go back to Operations, the General pulls him aside.

Poe’s not expecting it. He thought they’d managed to hash out all the issues fairly well. He wonders if she was going to try and convince him to bail after all because the desperate look in her eyes could not mean anything good.

“Poe,” She starts. “There’s something you need to know. About Kylo Ren.”

Poe is vaguely aware of BB-8 circling awkwardly from a distance away. “Yes?”

Her mouth opens but closes it almost instantly. 

The alpha stares at him without really looking, a mix of emotions waging war across her features, and then suddenly… stops, and shuts down.

General Organa steps back, and addresses him like she would any other Resistance member. “Don’t do anything rash. See if you handle the night and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Poe straightens up. “Yes, General. Can I still join the others in Operations?”

“I see no reason why not. Get caught up and help Blue Squadron with their response.”

It’s a dismissal as well as permission. Poe turns and jogs down the stairs, leaving the General behind.

Finn greets him at the door with a worried frown.

“Everything good?” He asks in a hushed voice, searching Poe’s face for the tell-tale gestures that a life-time spent under a helmet had robbed him of knowing intimately. “You okay?”

“I think so." Poe says. "I'll tell you later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Why You Should Never Meet Your Heroes, by Poe Dameron.' - alternative chapter title. Also, 'Now Is Not The Time To Fucking Flirt, Asshole, You'll Regret It Later,' would have worked too.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your feedback. :) It's great to have so many people respond to a weird thing you make and I'm never gonna be able to fully convey my gratitude for all the messages I get, apart from with really weird emojis. :* I hope you like this chapter, and please leave a comment if you do. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece!
> 
> P.S. ART MENTION. I haven't forgotten but the artists haven't yet responded to my messages to say whether or not it's okay to mention them so I'm just gonna wait on that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Oh dear. I know. 
> 
> Happy New Year. Small taster for you. 
> 
> P.S. It's been a while, so all you need to know about Trel Carena is that she is a minor character who died off screen in the last chapter. We were sad about it.

Most people need rituals to get through the hard parts of life. Soldiers are no different. When someone in the Resistance dies, you drink for them. It’s not always possible when you’re fighting a war and resources are scarce enough as it is but they all try. It’s important.

 

As per tradition it’s never anything nice; tonight’s choice smells like it would strip the stripes off an X-wing and moves like the sludge you’d find at the bottom of a chemical barrel, but Poe’s fought for a long time and learned to stomach dirt-cheap alcohol when he was just a teenager so when he toasts Trel, fifty others joining him in solemn silence, he knocks back the drink with ease, has the glass drained before Finn is done spluttering.

 

“That is horrible…” Finn gasps. He examines his drink with extreme disgust. “People drink that for fun?”

 

“There’s much better stuff out there. I’ll show you someday.” Poe says. 

 

The other Resistance pilots were clustered in small groups, a little way away. Poe really should go over and speak to them but he was finding it difficult to slip back into place like nothing had happened. He hates feeling like he's lying to his friends. 

 

Finn was always good company, but his knowledge of Poe’s current dilemma meant that he was now one of two people that Poe could actually stand to be around (BB-8 not withstanding) so loitering on the edges with Finn it was. 

 

“I’d hope so. You didn’t find alcohol in the barracks, ever. I had no idea what it would taste like, but…” Finn casts another dubious look at his glass. “Well, sure as hell didn’t think it would burn like that.”

 

Finn abruptly downs his glass and the subsequent coughing fit lasts long enough that Poe grows alarmed. He offers a water flask and Finn takes it gratefully. A few sips seem to do the trick of calming him down and the man falls back against the wall with a groan, eyes still watering.

 

“I do not understand at all.” Finn says weakly. “I’m telling Rey not to bother with this stuff. It is not worth it.”

 

Poe shakes his head. “It’s my fault. I should have realised you wouldn’t have drank before now. But buddy, I was not expecting you to drink the whole thing at once. Why did you do that?”

 

The question gets him a very weird look.

 

“Because it’s for your friend.” Finn says, brows furrowed, like he doesn’t understand why Poe had to ask. 

 

Poe smiles _. In another life._ He lets the thought go.

 

Finn inches closer to Poe and shoots the other pilots a careful glance before he continues speaking. “Have you figured out what your plan is tonight? What did Luke Skywalker say?” Finn makes a face. “I… I still can’t believe he’s a real person. He doesn’t look like a legend at all. He looks like was living in a ditch. Did he actually have anything useful to tell you about Kylo Ren?”

 

Poe thinks. “I’ll update you when Rey comes back.” He replies, sipping his drink.

 

If the day’s events had not already thrown him enough loops and revelations for him to grapple with, Poe had quickly realised that not everything he had learned applied solely to him. He was not the only person with a Force-sensitive alpha involved prominently in their life. Finn could also find himself in a bond with an entirely new set of rules. (If he and Rey were capable of such a thing, it would definitely happen.) Although Poe could not find any fault in Rey’s goodness he was able to find many in both her and Finn’s understanding of how dynamics worked. That deeply troubled him. Poe at least, knew plenty about alphas and had been in serious relationships before now. Finn and Rey’s lack of experience in that area would be a point of concern even if Rey was not a Force-user, but as she was one and also one powerful enough to take down _Kylo Ren_ in her first fight, Poe was finding it difficult to decide just how much to share with her. He was beginning to wonder whether or not he should even include her in this conversation at all. Maybe it would be better to explain it all to Finn first, who would have far more to lose if the situation did not work out for them. 

 

It was not an easy choice to make. Poe suspected that Finn would be deeply offended at him not trusting Rey, although logical as he was, he’d probably be able to understand Poe’s reasoning. Which gave him a little hope for a smooth landing.

 

“Both Rey and Skywalker gone. I don’t like it. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” Finn asks.

 

“My talk with Luke Skywalker didn’t end well. I think he needed some time alone.” Poe says quietly.

 

“Alone time? He’s spent the last decade alone. Surely he’s had enough of silence by now.” 

 

“Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you.”

 

Nine hours have passed since General Organa’s dismissal. In that time Poe has coordinated the return of Red and Blue Squadron and caught up on the minimal First Order activity that had occurred during his absence. And although he’s had the same conversation a hundred times over and the words are starting to taste foul, he thinks he’s managed to soothe most of the ripples caused by his absence. Poe takes full advantage of his rank and explains his absence as an unexpected mission (code for a secret one) which had ended a little dramatically, hence why he suddenly appeared in basic whites looking a little dazed and very beaten down. Not the best cover story by any means but nobody is willing to risk jeopardising the imaginary mission’s secrecy to pry any further into it. They’re happy enough to hear that the mission was a success and that Poe’s all but recovered. He’s welcomed back into the fold like nothing’s changed.

 

So, nine hours. Seven in Operations. Two in the hangar. The tenth one Poe gives to Trel. He’s done a lot in those nine hours, most of it damage control. Now he stands in the cool air, watching the sunrise, the golden light falling across dark grass as Poe joins his friends in paying the final tribute to their missing member.

 

He hasn’t slept yet. He plans to sleep away the morning, and needs to if he wants to be able to do his job right, but the actual task was not something he was looking forward to. He did not know what he would say to Kylo Ren if he saw him again. He was still reeling from the shock of their last conversation.

 

Eventually his squadron seeks him out. After giving him a reassuring nudge, Finn slips away when they join Poe, muttering something about finding Rey. 

 

This leaves Poe to stand with his friends and feel very old.

 

“Trel was a good one…” Snap says, quiet and somber, not ready to tell stories just yet. 

 

“Fucking First Order,” Maranee is stuck in anger. “We’ll show them.”

 

“We’ll improve bombing tactics. If we’re faster, no one needs to die like Trel did.” Poe offers, nodding to Pava. As the current record-holder for aiding the biggest number of successful Resistance bombing runs Pava had already shared her numerous ideas with Poe when he’d come across her earlier. 

 

“We need better tech.” Pava says again. 

 

“Too expensive. Can't justify it.” Snap says. 

 

“But it’d be worth it. If we can find the money we can improve communications across the board. Give every working ship a proper radar and warning system. Make it impossible for the First Order to hit us.” 

 

“The General would have already gotten it for us if it were possible so we need to assume that we can’t have it -”

 

Poe steps away from Pava and Snap as their discussion grows less commiserating and more heated. Feeling tired, he looks around for Finn, and suddenly spots L’ulo staring at him from a little way away. He wonders at the odd expression that L’ulo wore.

 

“Hey,” Poe says, going over to him. “How are you holding up?” He’s fairly sure that L’ulo didn’t know Trel at all but the Duros had always been very sensitive to the plight of orphaned children and Trel had left four of those behind her. 

 

L’ulo shrugs. “It is always sad to say good-bye. It feels like we lose so many people these days.”

 

“They don’t die in vain.” Poe says gently. “They give their life so that everyone else can live.” 

 

L’ulo acknowledged his words with a wry sigh. “Doesn’t make it any easier.” 

 

There was nothing Poe could say back to that but he does not feel like he can leave, so he stands with L’ulo as the conversation dies away, taking solace in the cool breeze and ignoring how his eyes wanted so desperately to close.

 

He’s very tired. He’s not as alert as he should be, and that’s why he takes a moment to register that L’ulo, usually affectionate and tactile due to their long friendship, has not made a move to wrap an arm around his shoulders or press closer in order to keep warm. Instead L’ulo has both hands folded behind his back, and has so far kept to a polite distance all night. He’s even broken tradition, hasn’t once socked Poe in the arm for getting the all clear for active duty.

 

For L’ulo, that was very odd behaviour. 

 

L’ulo notices him staring and shrugs apologetically. 

 

“I thought you might want space.” The Duros says, quietly so the others do not hear.

 

Poe blinks, thinks _fuck._  

 

“What do you mean?” He asks with an easy smile.

 

Judging from L’ulo’s expression, Poe has not managed to convince him of anything. The Duros leans back a little further and widens his eyes at Poe significantly. 

 

Heart beating up a storm under his ribs, Poe ever so subtly shakes his head.

 

L’ulo gives him a strange look. “You’re going through something right now, are you not?” 

 

Poe nearly loses his grip on his glass. 

 

“I think you’re mistaken about that,” He replies in an even tone. He glances at the others to see if they were listening and counts his blessings that they were not. “Got a hell of a lot of fatigue, sure, but that’s it.”

 

L’ulo looks worried now. “But Poe-”

 

“It’s nothing.” Poe says sharply, and the Duros falls silent. “I don’t - it’s nothing, it’s not what you think it is.”

 

It takes a minute for L’ulo to come up with something to say. Poe spends those precious seconds inwardly berating himself for his fucking incompetence. He was so preoccupied with the human aspect of it all - why he didn’t he consider what other races might notice? 

 

Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid_. This could cost him.

 

“What’s going on?” L’ulo asks.

 

Poe thinks fast, grabs ahold of L’ulo’s sleeve and tugs him aside. L’ulo comes without protest and when they’ve reached the doorway to the outer area, looking like they were just in need of space, the Duros folds his arms and waits for an explanation.

 

Poe turns his back on the noise and forces the muscles in his jaw to unclench. 

 

_Evasive manoeuvres, Dameron._

 

“I’m not in the midst of bonding.” He says. “Thank you for your courtesy, but it’s not what you think.”

 

L’ulo makes a disbelieving noise. “But the way you’ve been acting - the way you _move_ around people now, I’ve only ever seen omegas do that. Always right before they cement a bond.”

 

Poe thought he’d been subtle, but apparently not. So he could count on humans to ignore the tiniest signs, probably because his scent and neck were unchanged but a Duros who could not smell anything would only know to watch the body language, and without scent markers the likelihood of one just making assumptions was high indeed. 

 

Maybe it wasn’t humans who posed the most danger to Poe’s secret after all. How many people could he count on to be so observant? Everyone on the base knew he was an omega. Did everyone see as much as L’ulo did?

 

“It’s not that.” He says again, staring at L’ulo with unwavering firmness. Since he can’t deny it completely, L’ulo too sharp to let it slide, he tells a half-truth. “It is related to dynamics, but its just a bit of hormone trouble. Falling into Med Bay made everything worse. It’s not bonding, just an omega issue.”

 

L’ulo inclines his head, and looks off into the distance for a moment. 

 

“I did think it was odd that no one else had commented on it.” L’ulo eventually says. “Although… this is hardly the time for well-wishes.” He gestures at the remaining members of Trel’s squad.

 

Poe breathes out slowly. “Yeah, well, thank you for not openly congratulating me. That probably would have made for some awkward conversations.” 

 

L’ulo smiles hesitantly at him but looks embarrassed. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.” The Duros is considering for a moment, and then evidently concluding that there was nothing to worry about, reaches out and punches Poe in the arm. “Hopefully your omega trouble will clear up soon. I don’t like seeing you so skittish.”

 

 _Skittish -_ if anyone else asks Poe can explain that away with an excuse as simple as nerves. Still. This was a blatant reminder of how fragile the current peace was. It was luck that saved him here. He’d have to be a lot more careful in the future. “Thank you. Look, I need to go to bed before I collapse.”

 

L’ulo waves him away. “Go rest.”

 

Poe goes.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he stumbles back to his room, the sun has fully risen in the sky. BB-8 joins him as he turns into the barracks and informs him that Finn and Rey are already in there, talking. 

 

“Dammit.” Poe mutters. He doesn’t know what to do yet. 

 

He presses his hand against the panel to open the door and then uses that same hand to stave off the greetings and questions that Finn and Rey rush to their feet to deliver. Once again, they’d been sitting on his bed when he came in. It no doubt smelt of them by now.

 

“I need to sleep.” Poe says tiredly. 

 

Finn moves out of the way immediately. “Alright.” He says, looking very serious. “Want us to stick around?”

 

“I don’t know.” Poe collapses onto his bed with a sigh, tugging off his shoes and jacket without getting up. “Whatever you want, I guess.”

 

Poe rests his hands on his chest and closes his eyes. He feels the bed dip as two people settle down on either side of him. 

 

“Luke Skywalker is going to be staying with us for a little while.” Rey says softly, from his left. “I don’t know for how long. He just wants to be left alone. Leia’s with him now though.”

 

“Later…” Poe murmurs, and perhaps it is just exhaustion working its much-needed magic but when the wave of sleep rises to meet him he does not feel afraid of what might happen to him. He just drifts.

 

For whatever reason, Kylo Ren leaves him alone. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically the chapter I've had in different pieces for over a year. But I finally found myself willing to put it together. I've always referred to this story as my 'garbage fic' but for the first time yesterday I actually found myself doing it affectionately. I'm unsure what's going to happen re: update schedule but hopefully we can have some more fun here. Hope everyone is doing well. Also its late so chances are grammar is gonna be a bit *alarm noises* yeah what is present tense anyway
> 
> Also I wanna preface this by saying that I didn't hate the Last Jedi, but -
> 
> Me watching the Last Jedi: why does this garbage writing resemble my garbage writing


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being here on my totally self-indulgent fic trip for a story that was 100% not needed. Lotta fun. <3
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: When I started this story I wrote exclusively in present tense, but that has since changed and it's slightly difficult to readjust esp when you're mixing old material with new stuff. I am sorry if there are any tense issues in this chapter (please, please, let me know about them, I won't be offended I'm already annoyed with myself) and rest assured, I will go back and do another edit once I figure out how the hell this word business is supposed to go. Please do reach out if it's distracting or jarring.
> 
> I reached 7k and realised I had to end the chapter because that's insane. My other chapters haven't exceeded 3k (roughly). So much rewriting to do. This chapter has been saved in my drafts for over two weeks now. Right now I feel like a witch just chucking a cursed child out of her house.

Poe wakes just after noon. It hits him like a cool breeze. He sits up and yawns, rubbing his eyes as he blearily looks around for his comm, taking a moment to remember that it was still on his waist. 

 

He checks it; no messages. 

 

Swinging his legs over the side, Poe gets out of bed. 

 

He skims his discarded jacket off the floor and pulls it on in a jerky manner, looking about for his shoes. He discards the thought of showering as soon as it occurs to him; that could wait till later.

 

“Poe.” Finn says suddenly, rising up on his right. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine.” Poe says. He spies his shoes lying under his desk and darts forward to grab them. “Nothing happened. Look I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” 

 

“Hey, wait.” Finn scrambles out of bed and comes to join him by the desk where Poe is wrestling with the straps on his shoes. “You said we could talk once Rey got here.”

 

Off-balance, Poe glances first at Finn and then back at his bed. He’d completely forgotten that the alpha was there. 

 

Perched on the edge, hands wringing over a scrap of her robe, Rey smiles tentatively. Unlike him and unlike Finn (who had stripped down to his barest layers as he always did) she was fully-dressed, shoes on and everything. Poe wonders why he didn’t hear her get up. He surely was not that comfortable with her scent already. 

 

“Luke Skywalker told me some of it.” Rey says. Her gaze shoots to Finn. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking.

 

“Oh.” Poe takes a moment to acknowledge the instinctive rush of embarrassment (thrown out on his knees, an ugly wound displayed for the whole world to grimace over) before he pushes it away. “Have you told Finn what he told you?” 

 

“Rey already told me everything.” Finn interjects. 

 

Poe gives him a quick once-over, aware that the man could and would keep secrets if he thought it necessary (and to protect Rey, Finn would do anything) but Finn only looks worried, hands on his hips and restlessly shifting his feet. Rey shows more overt signs of distress but it seemed to be directed only at Poe, nothing dark behind her troubled frown that he can see.

 

If anything else, they certainly don’t _look_ like they’re in the middle of a frantic reassessment of their relationship. He feels a cautious amount of relief but its tampered by his doubt at whether Luke Skywalker would volunteer a lengthy explanation to anyone about anything. It was equally possible that they just didn’t have all the facts, hadn’t yet realised that what plagued Poe could maybe apply to them.

 

“I need to go. Can we just say what it is we know please?” Poe asks. 

 

“In short?” Finn folds his arms and looks awkwardly bleak. “You and Kylo Ren have some magical connection thing. And it’s unremovable. So you’re going to have him in your head for life.” 

 

A fair enough summary actually.

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Poe mutters. ‘Magical’ wasn’t a great term. He drags a hand through his hair and closes his eyes for a brief second before turning back to Finn and Rey, who had only grown tenser at his admission. He looks at them and shakes his head, slightly annoyed although he knew it wasn’t fair. “Relax. I’ve had time to acclimatise to it. I’m not going to keel over from shock now.” 

 

“This is serious.” Rey says earnestly.

 

“I know.” Poe tells her. He doesn’t have the energy for this conversation. Not by a long shot. “Believe me, I’m not in the dark about how bad this is. But I don’t have the time to get upset about it right now. There’s a war going on. I need to do my job.”

 

“But that’s not fair!” 

 

“When is life ever fair?” Poe retorts, then sighs, regretting the snap. “Look…” He reaches for his shoes again. “I know you’re scared. I know you want to help, but I can’t give my whole life over to this. This war isn’t going to stop until we stop it, so maybe I am at the mercy of Kylo Ren but until he decides he wants to see me, I think I’m just going to get on with things.”

 

“Is a wait and see approach really the best idea?” Finn questions. 

 

At the end of his rope, Poe holds out his hands. “What else can I do?” 

 

Both Finn and Rey go quiet at that. They look at each other and Poe, suddenly feeling very old and unwilling to stand and wait as two people had an unspoken conversation over his head, stands up and heads to the door. 

 

“I’m going to go grab some food before I see the General. You’re welcome to join me but if not I’m probably going to be in the control room or in the hangar. Ask BB-8 if you can’t find me.” 

 

“Are you going to see Luke Skywalker?” Rey asks. 

 

A lot of uncharitable thoughts pass through Poe’s head. “Maybe. We’ll see. He probably doesn’t want to talk to me.”

 

Finn shakes his head impatiently. “Doesn’t matter. He can get over whatever it is that’s bothering him. He needs to sort this out for you. ” 

 

“I don’t know if he can.” Rey suddenly confesses. 

 

It’s evidently the first time she’s actually given voice to this fear; her face falls and she looks shocked by her own admission. Poe pauses at the door, pulled back despite himself. From what Finn had said Poe knew that Rey held her legends in very high esteem (stories could be the sole relief somewhere as harsh as Jakku, and no one could be as sweet as Rey without having something to hold onto through the dark, something that promised better and was untouched by hunger or pain) but just as Poe expects her to take it back or soften it up with an excuse, she grits her teeth and continues.

 

“He’s not - he’s not what I thought he’d be like. Not like the stories at all.” Rey finishes, with a world-weary sort of grace. 

 

For all his worry about the unmapped terrain of Force-sensitive alphas, Poe could not be unmoved by the sadness of a young one like Rey. It was easy to forget sometimes, that not everyone had been living for as long as he had.

 

“He’s been giving you trouble?” Poe asks gently. The ‘too’ in that sentence goes unspoken, but Finn’s expression indicates that he hears it. (Poe looks at him pointedly; it could wait.)

 

Rey makes a face, searches for the words. “Luke Skywalker is not what I would call helpful.” She admits. 

 

“What we’re saying is that Jedi Master might be too strong a term.” Finn adds, very shrewd. 

 

Poe attempts a smile at that rather apt summarisation. “Maybe he’s still worn out from all that Force business with my head.”

 

Finn gives him a long look, supremely doubtful, but Rey manages a brave smile. 

 

“Maybe.” She says, before staring at her hands. 

 

There’s definitely a bigger story there but Poe doesn’t have the time to ask after it now, he’s hung around long enough as it is. He takes note of Rey’s hunched shoulders and fallen gaze (on an alpha that behaviour was slightly worrying and he’s not confident he understands what it means with her) and quickly scans Finn, who - aside from an attentive touch of the shoulder - was strangely impervious to Rey’s souring mood. Poe supposed that the undefined might not be as sensitive as the born and held, which makes Rey’s apparent dismissal all the more bewildering for him to understand. He would have thought that Luke Skywalker would want to get ahead of the curve with this particular student. 

 

(It occurs to him later that the man might be so accustomed to thinking that the galaxy was already doomed that he just didn’t see the worth in confronting the danger with Rey - its not a thought that fills him with confidence for his own affairs.) 

 

“We’ll talk later.” Poe assures them, because that's one thing he can promise.

 

* * *

 

 

The corridors are busier than usual, a renewed sense of urgency in the air. Poe’s alarmed, until he catches sight of heavy containers being dragged out of storage and he understands.

 

The Resistance was preparing to move. The General must have given the order while Poe was sleeping this morning. For that reason Poe decides he can go eat before he sees her; she would have sent an alert directly to his quarters if there was something pressing happening in the backdrop of all the bustle. 

 

It takes about five minutes of brisk walking for Poe to fully wake up and for his body to completely feel like his own again. Frustrated, he wants to blame some of that on his empty stomach and the lingering weight of a rough couple of weeks but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s coming out of a drugged sleep as opposed to a natural one. The paranoia is not easily ignored although logically Poe knows that its without foundation. Just the remnants of a nightmare with white walls, dogging his every footstep. 

 

Oddly he thinks that Kylo Ren’s nighttime absence has actually made him feel worse. As much as Poe’s adamantly not looking forward to their next interaction he definitely prefers having an enemy he can actually see, and in theory, attempt to fight off. The dreamless sleep feels less restoring as it does like treading water in the middle of a deep ocean, knowing that somewhere, lurking under the surface, there was something big with a lot of teeth. And Poe couldn’t run, couldn’t fly, all he could do was wait for it to come to him, stuck in a vast stretch of water with no land in sight and no rescue coming.

 

If nothing else managed it, that particular aspect of the bond was going to wear him down before long. He thinks he’d struggle with it even if the invader was someone he actually liked or just trusted not to hurt him, because being unable to affirm his boundaries or control his surroundings felt like sitting on a chair made out of spikes, uncomfortable in a truly unnatural way. Not even when he had been captured had Poe ever felt this exposed and helpless, and the feeling prevailed even surrounded by his friends and allies and with whole star systems in between him and the person who wanted to hurt him. Poe knew that he needed to develop some kind of resistance to it if he wanted to survive the bond long-term, if only to avoid a nervous breakdown. The Resistance couldn't afford that.

 

When it came to the Force, Poe reluctantly accepted that there was little he could do. It was a power that was beyond his understanding and his efforts to influence it even if his goal was as minor as slowing his opponent down. Couldn’t fire a blaster fast enough, couldn’t talk his way out of a stare-down. His best bet at escaping it was distance, and the bond didn’t allow for that. Instead it ensured that Kylo Ren was the one with the advantage, who presumably knew more about their connection and who assuredly would not share any of that information with a rebel pilot, lest Poe figure out a way to use it against him. 

 

(Unless the alpha - forgot the danger, somehow. But even if Poe _could_ persuade him to do that, Kylo Ren would surely make him pay for it later. Right now he suspected that it was only Kylo Ren’s interest in his neck that was saving him from being made to suffer the alpha’s overwhelming amount of rage and contempt.)

 

At any rate, it still left Poe with the problem of the dreams. There didn’t appear to be much he could do to dissuade them on his own unless he subjected himself to drugs and medical observation every night and that just wasn’t practical in the long run. (But he tucks the thought away like the pill that intelligence officers had stitched into the linings of their jackets.) Potentially there was some rhyme or reason to the nighttime visits, be it some bizarre Force explanation or something easier, it’d be useful for nothing more than Poe’s sanity if he could figure out the pattern. It had felt like someone had been looking over his shoulder a lot in the early days, it had started slow before it had escalated all the way to hands around his throat. 

 

The big question to figure out though was whether Kylo Ren was ultimately the one responsible for appearing in Poe’s dreams or whether the bond demanded that it happen regardless of what either of them wanted. The General had made it sound like her dreams with Han Solo had happened without her doing anything to motivate them, but the incident with Luke Skywalker told Poe that, even if it had at first started without his permission, Kylo Ren was now able to exercise enough power to create a connection if he so wanted. And unlike the General, he was definitely aware of what existed between them.

 

Frighteningly then, his safety might be dependent only on Kylo Ren’s self-control. And he’d broken before, so he could definitely break again. The bond definitely took a harsher toll on him than it did Poe. Maybe staying away was simply impossible. Kylo Ren had even admitted to it, vaguely, he’d named Poe as the transformation currently wrecking hell on his body. (Kind of flattering, in a weird way. Poe likes to think that he’s causing Kylo Ren trouble. Likes to think that his mark has been felt, and won’t be ignored. Not that it made up for waking up several days in a row with slick running down his legs like a teenager, but it was a small thing, and Poe would take it.) If that were true, Kylo Ren might seek him out if only to stop the pain, unless merely accepting the dreams was enough to alleviate it. But then Poe wouldn’t be able to stop the dreams even if he did find a way, he’d have to suffer through them, an offering for safe passage.

 

 _Maybe._ Poe grasps the thought and follows it out of the quicksand. _Maybe_.

 

Maybe he should just approach this as if he were still stuck in that interrogation room. Make the game a simple one. Survive. Endure. He could withstand the torture, the dreams could not last forever. Maybe (the idea grows firmer under his fingers) the continued meetings might even help him come to better understand his enemy, if he was lucky he could retrieve some sort of intel that would help the Resistance. 

 

But a voice in his head warns him to tread very carefully, and for all his frustration Poe can’t dismiss it. Kylo Ren was hard to figure out, jumping from one extreme to the next in mere seconds, without warning, but he would surely be cruel if he thought someone was trying to undercut him. Alpha pride was not to be laughed at. Poe could never grow complacent. 

 

But he still needed to try something. It was just hard to think of what. 

 

Luke Skywalker might have something to offer here, he realises. Providing Poe could find him and persuade him to talk. The old omega didn’t just know the Force, he knew Kylo Ren (before, Poe amends, but how much could a person truly change) so he’d be able to tell Poe what he was originally like. That would be useful. Would make Poe feel a little bit less like he was walking blind-folded into the middle of a minefield. 

 

But he’s doubtful as to whether or not the old omega has actually deigned to stay planet side after their last talk had fallen apart so dramatically. It hadn’t sounded like he’d been willing to give Poe anything more than his initial offer of a hasty retreat and his anger at being disobeyed was a visceral memory. 

 

And yet Poe does not regret it. And he has not changed his mind.

 

Running away and hiding had never solved any of Poe’s problems before. It baffled him why Luke Skywalker would ever claim that it could, when distance didn’t mean a thing and when Kylo Ren could reach him on whatever planet Poe holed himself away on.

 

If anything was certain here, it was that Poe had no alternative other than to face Kylo Ren head-on. 

 

The canteen is busy when he finds it. Poe’s not really in the mood to talk but knows that sitting alone will inevitably attract attention so he grabs the first food box he sees and joins a table with Pava and Maranee, hoping that they’d be their usual lovesick selfs and leave him out of whatever conversation they were currently having. (Their table has the added benefit of only having humans sitting at it; after L’ulo, Poe wants to be careful.)

 

“Hey.” Poe says, dropping his food onto the table and plonking himself down into a chair.

 

“Hello.” Marinee says, occupied with her own bowl. Her alpha nods at him and keeps chewing. 

 

Gratified, Poe takes the lid off to inspect his meal.

 

The box wasn’t hiding anything fancy, a mixture of dry rations from storage and natural produce from the planet outside, rich green fruit and red roots. The latter will taste far better than anything Poe has had in months but lacks the nutritional value of even the cheapest gruel, so the cooks supplement it with the far less popular emergency rations the Resistance had bought cheap off a sympathetic trader.

 

Poe eats all the fresh food first, then looks unenthusiastically at the grey packages left in the box.

 

Maranee notices his expression and snorts. “You should have gotten the soup. They made it fresh today, special treat. Big mistake, Dameron.”

 

“Yeah, well.” Poe rips open a package and takes a big bite out the nutrient chunk inside. “Someone else can have a treat today.” 

 

* * *

 

He’s finishing his food (putting together a script for when he sees the General again and updates her on his status) when he sees the alpha doctor, Aris, enter the canteen with a few others from Med Bay.

 

Poe only picks out their entrance in the midst of the general canteen chaos and disorder because he’s spent the whole meal just staring at the door, but even if his gaze had been fixed on the wall he feels like Aris’ good humour would be impossible to miss. The man is grinning like he’s just won the whole world in a card game.

 

Next to him, Maranee suggests, “Good shift?”

 

“Good news maybe.” Poe says, popping one of the remaining pieces of his nutrient block into his mouth and chewing it idly. 

 

He’s admittedly very curious about why they’re all so happy. The Resistance, while not a place of constant doom and gloom, wasn’t usually home to big displays of emotion unless some big mission had just been pulled off successfully, and the people who worked in Med Bay were (in Poe’s limited experience) more hard-pressed for fun than the pilots. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Aris look so relaxed. 

 

He keeps staring even as Maranee loses interest. The chalky residue of the nutrient bar sticks to his fingers, so, not really thinking about it, he puts one in his mouth and sucks it clean. 

 

Unfortunately for Poe this is the exact moment that Aris turns around and catches Poe looking at him.

 

Aris’ smile turns startled, turns intrigued, and while Poe realises his mistake and drops his hands onto the table (Pava, having witnessed the whole thing, is snickering under her breath) Aris waves off his companions and makes his way over to Poe’s table; hook, line and sinker. 

 

“Oh great.” Poe murmurs before he plasters a smile onto his face which he hopes is neither rude nor overly friendly. “Hey Aris.” He nods. The alpha stops by him, looking worryingly interested. Poe feels a little pained. This was unnecessary. “Can I help you with something?” 

 

Aris’ brows furrow. “Just checking up on an old patient.” He says. It might be a cover but the alpha does still scan him, eyes stopping on the discarded nutrient bar wrappers. “Appetite come back?” He touches one wrapper questioningly. 

 

“Erm…” Poe glances down at Aris’ hand. He's mindful of the power that Aris held over him only days before. Maybe it was Kylo Ren's effect, but Poe is reluctant to cross him without good cause. “Yeah?”

 

Aris turns the wrapper over to see the list of ingredients. “That’s good. Can’t beat proper food for restoring strength.” The hopeful look has faded somewhat; now the alpha is looking thoughtful about something.

 

With the sort of lofty air that promises that she’ll mock him endlessly about this later, Pava decides to take pity on him.

 

“Didn’t you have to see the General, Poe?” 

 

Poe switches to her. “Ah, yeah.” 

 

Aris is still very much in his space when Poe says, “Sorry Aris, I have to go.” But to his credit he does immediately straighten up and back off a step (a bit regretful, a touch annoyed) so Poe can get out of his seat. 

 

“Thanks.” Poe eyes Aris for a second before glancing at Pava and Maranee. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” 

  

“Oh, hold on-” Aris starts from over Poe’s shoulder and grabs his arm. 

 

It’s just enough to break the marked attempts at politeness; Poe clenches his jaw, turns on his heel and surveys the hand on his jumpsuit with open irritation. This is one line they’ve never crossed, for very good reason.

 

He looks up at Aris who quickly realises that the situation is not going to go the way he wants and lets go of him.

 

“I-” Aris shuts his mouth, uncomfortable. 

 

Poe rolls his eyes. “Yeah.” 

 

He steps back, shares a pointed look with Pava and Maranee, then strides away.

 

* * *

 

 

In the grand scheme of things it is nothing to be mad about. It’s nothing. It’s the tiniest thing for Poe or for anyone else to have spoil their day, just a persistent crush finally hitting the wall at last. Yet it feels so overwhelmingly unnecessary that Poe finds himself frowning as he heads to the General’s office, droids scattering out of his way as he passes. (He’ll feel bad later.) It’s a small thing alright, but it’s a small thing that he doesn’t need right now.

 

The incident with Aris had been a long-time coming. From the moment Poe had first met him (a disastrous day very early on in the Resistance, Poe had ran alongside Snap on a stretcher only to be ordered out of the Med Bay by a tired-looking alpha with dark hair and a darker mood) he’d known that the alpha would force things to become awkward. Aris was entirely too stubborn in his affections. Poe had very confidently assured friends that the crush wouldn’t last a week only to have those same friends end up running interference for him time and time again. But to make matters worse the affection had only ever existed in an awkward state where it wasn’t so overt that Poe felt obliged to confront it and spare Aris the heartbreak, but neither did it ever go fully away. It was the lingering look after the conversation had ended, the flash of delight when Poe returned from a mission. Small things, that could mean nothing, and usually didn’t mean anything. Aris was the careful sort of alpha, he only made a move when he thought he could predict the outcome. Never took more than what was available. Until now. Now Poe had hit his limit. 

 

But what bugs him more than Aris’ claim (that Poe had practically invited it was worse of all) is that it happened in the wake of finding out that he had some kind of bond with another alpha, who he thinks would be formidable enough even without the cowl and saber. And its a perfectly stupid feeling to have in the midst of all the bullshit that was going on (irrational, he corrects, irrational and not his real voice) but while Poe doesn’t want anyone else to know about Kylo Ren he still feels deeply annoyed that he doesn’t get to at least reap the few benefits that the situation could offer him, namely not being bothered by other people. Today wouldn’t have happened if Poe had been able to shroud himself in an alpha’s shadow. Unlike other species, once a human settled down, it usually stayed that way.

 

But not everyone liked this trait.

 

“Wait, so you bond with someone and you’re just done? Forever? There’s no way back? You can’t change your mind?” Finn had asked, one morning when he’d still been bedridden. An eternity ago.

 

“I mean.” Poe had replied, not sure how to distill a hundred different paths into one easy answer. “No. People break up, but its pretty rare compared to other races. But once someone’s bonded people will just assume that they’re off the market for good. You’d have to say that you weren’t still together for someone to think that you were available.” 

 

“That’s out of politeness?” 

 

“Self-preservation.” A very old human instinct, which mattered less now that people used their words to sort out their problems, but not that one that could be totally disregarded. It only ever took one bad incident for people to remember the danger.

 

“Crazy.” Finn had remarked, with the sort of the dubious pause that meant a hundred other questions were about to fly Poe’s way. 

 

As someone who had only ever caught whispers of it from afar, Finn had much appreciated picking up the complexities/simplicities of a social language that had been unfairly stripped from him. He’d asked Poe a lot of questions over his bed-rest but truly had needed little guidance, being observant enough to pick up on the subtle details and bright enough to make the logical connections between them, instinct picking up the rest and sheer force of charm soothing any injuries caused by his missteps. 

 

It had been interesting to Poe for a different reason. He had honestly never given much thought to the conventions that guided his life and the lives of everyone he knew. Trying to explain such things (which, for him, felt as obvious as the sky above and twice as unquestionable) did not come immediately natural for Poe, but he’d still made short work of that particular challenge. 

 

Passing through the Resistance crowds like a leaf caught up on a river swirl, Poe wonders if he could make short work of this one too. 

 

His personal situation was peculiar to say the least. Apart from the breathless hint of stress, Poe still smells largely the same. His neck is still bare. There is nothing about him which suggests the attention of an alpha with something permanent on their mind, and not one human, not even Snap who had an uncanny insight into matters like this, has brought it up with him. Weeks later, that acrid scent is still fresh in his mind, but it is only in his mind. There is no hint of Kylo Ren about his quarters or on his clothes or on his body. Poe has (ironically) been left untouched in that regard. 

 

The lack of physical identifiers could actually help Poe out a lot since they did make the Force bond a lot easier to hide. If you didn’t know it was there, there would be no reason to look. Poe certainly wouldn’t jump to ‘mystical bond’ if he saw a squad-mate acting strangely. L’ulo had been the only blip, but now Poe remembers that he’s unlikely to meet anyone else with such a high level of familiarity with human culture nor such a long history with him to immediately know when Poe was off his game. He’d still have to be careful of course, but he could figure out how to hide the small signs. He could be like Luke Skywalker, impossible to pick up on. He could hide this bond from the world.

 

Although Rey had noticed something. What had she said exactly?

 

Poe wracks his memory, calls back the picture of her frustrated face and curled fists. (She’d been upset.)

 

_Sometimes when I look at you, I sense something that feels strange to me. Something that isn’t you._

 

And what the hell did that mean?

 

Poe turns the comment over in his mind.

 

Perhaps (and this could only be a guess but Poe feels good about it so maybe he’s managed to stumble across something true after all, but _perhaps_ ) the rules weren’t so different after all. Because ordinarily Poe’s scent would telegraph his bad decisions, but in this game his scent was unaffected and his skin was unmarked and no human saw anything amiss, except for the one with Force sensitivity.

 

_A different kind of marking?_

 

Poe rubs his neck, considering it. Across from him a man coughs and averts his gaze.

 

A different kind of marking, only this kind could only be detected by other Jedi or other Force-sensitive individuals. So if Poe wanted to run stealth missions in peace, he’d have to avoid people like that. Alright. With the scarcity of the group in question, Poe should be okay. And Rey’s tough, she’d be able to live with it. Although he wonders if General Organa had been able to sense it too.

 

The thought brings him to a sudden halt. 

 

He stops under a low arch and becomes another obstacle for the streaming crowd to travel around. The General’s office is in sight but Poe doesn’t move. A tentative curl of doubt winds its way around his fingers. 

 

He had been too caught up in his own muddling haze of madness to notice any change in _her_ behaviour. Now he remembers an inch of reservedness which he’d put down to her still dealing with Han Solo’s death, but maybe there had been other causes. She had gone to her brother so quickly after all - but again, they were twins pulled apart, obviously she’d be eager to see him again. But maybe she had been after answers too, because she’d waited when her brother had approached Poe in the hangar bay. Hung back. Seeking confirmation of something she’d suspected ever since his return?

 

The possibility fills Poe with dread but he quickly clamps down on the fear and pulls back for rationality. He reminds himself that no one has ever seen the General use the Force, whatever relationship she had with it didn’t appear to factor into her day-to-day routine and her disinterest in pointless acts of self-sacrifice meant that if she could save time by Force-moving a data-pad her way she would do it. Blood meant nothing; her father might be Darth Vader but Leia Organa had never shown much regard for that little detail and she was definitely not a Jedi, unable to recount clear details about the religion when Poe had asked about it in the past. Maybe she’d sensed that something was off, but had not known what, or who, or why. That could explain why she hadn’t mentioned it to Poe before her brother had arrived; ever the tactician, she hadn’t wanted to make a move without first having all the facts. 

 

Only the General that Poe knew tended not to keep information from him. Especially when it was bad news. 

 

 _She couldn’t have known._ Poe persists. _She couldn’t have known that it would be this bad._  

 

But it was an odd misstep for her. At any rate, it told Poe that the General might be less assured when it came to things that related to the Force. She might want to follow her brother’s lead, even if she thought differently. Which Poe could understand since he certainly had no clue about what the hell was going on, but it was still troubling with Luke Skywalker taking such a dire view of his prospects. Poe doesn’t want to have to account for _his_ bias in future negotiations with the General. Bad enough that the Jedi had already claimed that he couldn’t help Poe get out, he didn’t need to restrict Poe further. Especially when Luke Skywalker felt no apparent need to help clean up the First Order mess or deal with Kylo Ren himself.

 

But maybe the General had made progress on that front.

 

* * *

 

Fittingly, the first thing the General says to him before she even says hello or asks after his night is, “My brother is absolutely useless.” 

 

“Oh.” Poe says, the doors sliding shut behind him. The General is leaning up against her desk with her arms folded, much aggrieved. She’s got her hair up in a blue wrap and it looks formal and graceful, but Poe notices the dark shadows under her eyes. She’s only put it up because she hasn’t had the time to wash it. “Sorry to hear that.” 

 

Poe was privileged to hold a close enough relationship with General Organa that he could usually speak freely and openly about issues that other members of the Resistance wouldn’t dare touch with a fifty foot pole, but he still struggles to find the appropriate words here, mindful of the emotions that the discussion could generate. Fortunately the General doesn’t allow the pause to continue for long. 

 

She shakes her head. “All those years spent wanting him to come back, and now he’s here and I almost want to send him away again.” Another tired sigh. “Typical.” 

 

“He does seem different from how the stories described him.” Poe says, somewhat diplomatically. 

 

“That has always been true. I never heard tales of his whining or his love of dramatic gestures-” The General snorts. “No matter. That’s not important. How are you?”

 

Poe meets her gentle scrutiny with a straight back and total openness. “Fine. I slept this morning, nothing to report. I had Rey and Finn with me the whole time.”

 

“Did they help at all?” The General asks. 

 

“Maybe. It’s definitely nice to have a friend there with you. But I don’t-” Poe stops, and considers how best to phrase this next part. “I’m becoming aware that Force-sensitive alphas take a very different approach than ordinary ones. I haven’t figured out how it works for someone in my position. Maybe Rey’s presence helped, it could make sense for it to work that way.” He would have thought that the presence of another alpha would be more likely to _provoke_ a response, but apparently not. Or maybe it was something else entirely. The lack of boundaries made virtually any guess workable. “I don’t for sure. Even if it did help, I don’t know how long I could rely on her for protection from Kylo Ren. We can’t be together all the time.” 

 

He means that practically because Rey’s not BB-8 and she can’t fit into an X-wing with him, but he also does not consider her a permanent fixture in his life. He’s not sure how long he and Rey will be cohabiting under the same roof (or whether she’d even like that sort of arrangement, he’d feel bad restricting her for his own comfort and peace of mind) but he instinctively knows that sooner or later, their paths will diverge. There was a longing in her eyes that defied the Resistance banner and surely defied the numerous offers to stay. Poe might have found his place with the Resistance, and maybe Finn had too (or at least he hoped) but Rey was still drifting in the wind. She had only found Finn, and while Poe doesn’t doubt that the connection between the two would outlast every star and regime between here and Jakku, he also knows that neither of them are too dependent on the other and that they could both survive the separation if that was what the other one wanted. And Rey was very much still searching.

 

“I wish I could give you better information but I don’t think I ever met another Force-sensitive alpha in the time before I actually bonded with Han. If I did, I didn’t sense anything.” The General wore a very recognisable frown whenever she talked about the Force; revered, but dismissive in equal measure. Her begrudging respect for it always seemed to be outweighed by her preference for physical gestures, a preference which Poe truly only understands now. 

 

Poe has already resigned himself to not being able to get any truly useful intel out of the General so he only nods here and moves past it. “It’ll be something to figure out in the coming days.” 

 

“There’s no map I can give you, Poe. I wish there was. It would help if I could write it all down and have it make sense but… the Force has a nasty habit of making life a lot more difficult to understand. It just _is_.” The General moves away from him and settles herself at the holo-display, pressing keys until a holo of a small star system appears. “Luke always took a more in-depth approach to figuring it out but I could never see the point. The Force doesn’t want to be explained. At least not by me.” The holo magnifies upon one of the planets - white, with a sea that encompasses half the surface.  

 

Poe studies the holo. “Location for a new base?”

 

“One possibility.” The General leans back. “I’m going to send Snap to check it. But if his report is good, I’ll have us move there. We’ve been here long enough already.”

 

Poe nods. Even heavily-damaged, the First Order was still dangerous. And they knew where the Resistance was. “Anything you want me to do?” 

 

“Help me shutdown the base as quickly as you can?” The General says dryly. “There’s not much you can do, Poe. I’m not running any missions while our fleet is so damaged.”

 

“I can help with repairs.” Poe replies. “Rey too, probably. But we’ll need more ships if we want to be effective. Unless you plan on sending me on fly-bys - which I can do, if we need it.” 

 

“Yes, I’m aware that you’re a brilliant pilot, Poe.” He gets an admonishing look, though its fond.

 

“Just thought I’d mention it.” Poe says, folding his arms. 

 

“We’re scrambling enough as it is. No - I’ll send Snap out and we’ll assume that his report will be good and we’ll continue preparing to move. If he comes back and its bad…” The General waves a hand dismissively. “We’ll figure something else out. Can’t hurt to be prepared.” She taps at the console, the holo disappears. “Now, about my brother.” 

 

Her voice carries a certain deliberate briskness which makes Poe’s ears prick up. “Yeah?”

 

“I know what you’re going to ask so I’m going to tell you upfront - I don’t know what his plans are now that you’re staying. I know he wants to go… but…” The General makes a face. “I think he’s struggling to actually go through with it.”

 

“He thinks I’m making a mistake.”

 

“Oh absolutely. Luke-” The alpha drums her fingers. “Luke doesn’t want to be around people anymore.”

 

“I did get that impression.” Poe says lightly. He gets a look which says that the General can see through his poor attempt to protect her feelings. “So what’s the problem? Are you expecting him to just take Rey and go?”

 

The General huffs at the mention of her name. “ _That_ ,” She tells Poe darkly. “Is another Luke problem. He doesn’t want to teach her, he wants her to go away too.”

 

Poe frowns. “What? Because of what happened with Kylo Ren?” 

 

“Among other things.” The General says carefully, quietly. “I’m trying to persuade him to change his mind, world knows that girl would appreciate a bit of guidance right about now but I don’t have time to chase my brother around base. This is-” She pauses. “This was always going to be a complicated affair, Poe. I’m going to ask that you stay out of this for now. Let Rey and Luke sort it out on their own.”

 

“He can’t just avoid this.” Poe says, dumbfounded. “He can’t avoid any of this. This war is going to suck in the whole galaxy. He shouldn’t hide if he can help - and he can help. Forgive me, General, but I don’t understand why he’s acting this way.” 

 

The General’s only reply is, “I wish I had an easy answer for you.”

 

While hardly new information at this point, it was still immensely frustrating to have Luke Skywalker’s apparent indifference to their struggles rubbed in his face. Poe curses.

 

“…That said.” She continues. “I think Luke will give you some help if you ask him.”

 

Poe's skeptical. “What more can he do? He tried to cut the bond, it didn’t work, then he just told me to run. He didn’t make it sound like there was anything else to be done.”

 

“That doesn’t mean that he can’t still try. He wants to help you, Poe. He’s proven that by sticking around.”

 

It felt more like guilt to Poe, but he doesn't mention it. “Where is your brother now?” Given how he could make himself invisible to others, there was presumably nowhere that he couldn’t wander without being bothered. 

 

“He’s taken his ship and landed on the other side of Western hills. There's an abandoned structure there, an old agricultural building. Luke's made his nest in it.”

 

A few hours walk, maybe. A few seconds in an X-wing. Poe nods. “I’ll go see him sometime today.”

 

Sensing his reluctance, the General adds, “Treat him as a potential source, Poe. Maybe he’ll talk, maybe he won’t, but as long as he’s here you’d be foolish not to take advantage of it. I won’t be much help with this.” 

 

“And if he goes?” 

 

The General shakes her head. “Then we’ll deal with it. As we’ve been dealing with it before.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many people clicked on this story thinking they were going to get the usual smut and now they're 8 chapters in and we're doing lots of world-building and musings on life? 
> 
> Welcome to the literary equivalent of one of those trick staircases in Harry Potter. Pleased to have you stuck here with me.
> 
> This chapter was the equivalent of putting clean bedsheets back on a bed for me. Like it had to happen, but my god was it a bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: It is implied that two people engaged in sexual behaviour and it is not stated whether this implied behaviour was consensual or not. Also someone gets violent with another person which can be classed as domestic abuse. (I am unsure about a lot of this but I'd rather be safe than sorry with you guys. Let me know if there's anything I should tag.)
> 
> Yes, I do in fact suck at everything. But thanks for reading this and please leave a comment if you liked this/noticed something you want me to know about. 
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr - wherethefuckisthatjigsawpiece (doesn't have to be about this fic, just come gush about characters if you want)


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